


O Captain, My Captain

by BlackRapture



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Biting, Canon Compliant, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Sex, Scratching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:26:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackRapture/pseuds/BlackRapture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His friend, his brother, his lover. Their story is only logical. /reboot universe/Kirk/Spock/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Our Fearful Trip is Done

“Receiving communication from Starfleet Command, Captain,” Lieutenant Uhura’s voice informed him.

“Patch it through, Lieutenant,” Kirk ordered, followed by a voice filling the bridge.

“Captain Kirk, this is Commodore Stone of Starbase 11, with delivery orders.”

“Go ahead, Commodore.”

“You are ordered to report to Starbase 11 and beam aboard a range of technological and environmental supplies to be delivered to the new Vulcan colony on Tolvek IV, Beta Quadrant 518.”

“Understood, Commodore. Kirk out. ETA to Starbase 11, Mr. Chekov?”

“Estimated arrival 3 days 6 hours, Captain.”

“Plot a course, Mr. Chekov.”

“Course plotted and layed in, Captain.”

As the newly-christened Captain James Tiberius Kirk sat smugly in his oversized chair, overseeing the bridge with unabashed pleasure, he still couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was amiss. His recent heroics had afforded him precious little time for reflection on the entire affair, but his thoughts had frequently been straying to one of his many near-death experiences - narrowly avoided not by himself, but by the torch of a wizened old Vulcan, the future visage of his current First Officer.

The melding of his mind with Spock’s had left in its wake the older man’s overwhelming grief for an entire planet, his home, his mother. Despite the unsettling result of this brief contact, the dull ache of mourning was not what occupied his mind most when he recalled the encounter. What bothered him was the holes, the feeling that something crucial had been absent from the transference. As if Spock had intentionally left gaps in the knowledge he had imparted. He had, and still did, trust the older man, which was probably why he was so confused and irritated by the nagging itch that told him that there was something that had been hidden from him.

Would it be appropriate to ask? Clearly Spock had taken great steps to ensure he did not know, therefore requesting said information seemed a plan doomed to failure. The only conclusion he could come to about the nature of this missing data was that it was one of two things: either something that had happened in his other life which Spock wanted to prevent in this one, or something that Spock wanted him to figure out for himself without outside influence. If the first, surely Spock would have just told him not to do something, told him that the consequences would be dire or unpleasant to his person. If the second, well, he guessed that was alright. But still not any less annoying. Resisting the urge to pout like a 12-year-old girl, he simply sighed and tried to find something authoritative to do.

/

Kirk had not forgotten about the mysterious chasm accompanying his mind-meld with Spock’s future self, occasionally casting an irritated glance towards Spock’s present self by mistake. Of course, this was never returned with anything but a raised eyebrow and a blank expression. The last 78 hours to Starbase 11 had left him plenty of time to mull over whether or not to seek Spock out once they reached the Vulcan colony and demand an answer. Or politely request one, at the least. He came the conclusion that should Spock refuse, he was in the same position as he was now, no better or worse, therefore there was no reason not to do so.

“Tha’s the last of it, Captain,” Scotty’s voice sounded from the speaker next to his arm.

“Stow it away, Scotty.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Kirk out.”

With the last of the equipment aboard, the U.S.S. Enterprise left Starbase and headed for Tolvek IV, almost a week away. The boredom of nothing but black space and an endless multitude of stars gave Kirk more time then he would have preferred to mull over, or rather unhealthily fixate, on the subject of his imminent encounter with the Spock of the future. What kind of information would he bother to hide? Important military secrets, perhaps, or the knowledge of the exact circumstances surrounding the deaths of his crew? His own death? So many possibilities, each one more alarming than the next, chased each other around in his mind. Or was Spock trying to hide something about himself, or rather, Kirk’s current second-in-command?

He surreptiously glanced up at the Vulcan, whose fingers were moving over the control board in front of him. He seriously doubted that Spock could have any interesting secrets to keep, to be perfectly honest. Kirk remembered hearing that Spock had been the first Vulcan to ever turn down entrance to his planet’s Science Academy, to the general astonishment of the Vulcan council. He couldn’t help but smirk at the positively hysterical thought that, back home, Spock had been something of a rebel. And, of course, Kirk had been as well. Perhaps they did share commonalities that would one day bring them to be, as the old man had told him, great friends. They had gotten along amicably thus far, Spock’s cool logic often helpful in a tight spot. What would Spock’s alternate self want to keep hidden concerning a friendship he had so vehemently assured Kirk would be essential to his life in Starfleet? There was something decidedly suspicious about the entire situation.

/

The Captain’s initial landing party consisted of himself, Spock, and Dr. McCoy. They beamed to the agreed coordinates and were greeted by most of the elders that had been rescued from Vulcan moments before it’s destruction, including Spock’s father.

“Nice to see you again, Ambassador,” Kirk nodded to Sarek.

“Greetings, Captain Kirk.”

“I’ve put Spock here in charge of organizing all this. We have crew at your disposal, just tell them where to.”

“You have our appreciation, Captain,” Sarek bowed, turning to his son and beginning the preparations for transferring the supplies to the planet’s surface. McCoy wandered off, saying something about inquiring after the colony’s repopulation efforts. Kirk, glancing around to make sure no one was paying much attention to him, started off on his search for the other Spock, with absolutely no idea where to begin. He noted an official-looking building in the distance and began towards it, but was interrupted before even entering.

“Jim,” a deep voice called from his left. He turned to see exactly the Vulcan he’d been seeking striding towards him.

“Oh, thank God. I was just trying to figure out how to find you.”

“I learned that the Enterprise was delivering our supplies and was seeking you as well,” Spock informed him. Kirk was mildly surprised, as he didn’t know what he would want him for.

“Oh, well, good. I had something to ask you,” Kirk said, hoping he would not be leaving empty-handed. Spock nodded.

“Let us walk together,” he suggested, falling into step beside him.

“What is your question, Jim?”

“You left something out when you brain-sucked me,” Kirk accused point-blank, as he was unsure how to approach the topic subtly. Spock looked at him and with a raised eyebrow, and a somewhat sad downturn to his mouth.

“I was unsure if you would be perceptive enough to recognize that the information you received in the mind-meld had been intentionally altered. I note that my concerns were unfounded,” Spock admitted.

“Yeah, so what’s the what?”

“I did not, as you put it, ‘leave something out.’ I simply emphasized a particular emotion that I felt when joining my mind with yours.”

“But what I feel is… something missing. Nothing isn’t an emotion.”

“Loneliness is,” Spock said evenly, looking at Kirk intensely.

“Why did you feel loneliness? And why would you give it to me on purpose?”

“I experienced and continue to experience loneliness for my friend from the reality I left behind. I hoped that, in time, you would choose to act upon that feeling.”

“Act upon… your loneliness? I’ll be honest, I’m confused as hell,” Kirk confessed, exasperated.

“I confess myself to be of selfish intentions, Jim. I desired to interfere on behalf of my younger self, to offer him an opportunity to engage in the relationship I longed for, but did not have the courage to initiate.”

“What relationship? You said you were my friend - my best friend,” expounded Kirk, desperately trying to piece the conversation together to form a meaningful conclusion.

“Jim,” Spock said with an impossibly raised eyebrow and something like amusement lurking behind his eyes, “I believe that in another lifetime, we were both desirous of a closer relationship.”

“What d’you… uh, wait. Haha, ok. Did you hypo yourself with a hallucinogen?” Kirk looked at him incredulously, legitimately concerned for the older man’s health at this point.

“No, Jim. I am under the influence of no mind-altering substances. I did not wish to reveal all in such a manner, but knowing you as I do, you would not have been dissuaded. I had desired you to come to this conclusion with no outside influence beyond that which I initially gave to you.”

“You gave me memories riddled with weird holes and you think I would have figured out that you wanted me to get with Spock?!”

“I believe that, given time, you would have determined the course I intended, yes.”

“You are giving me way too much credit. How vague could you get? I want to unlearn this whole thing!”

“In time, Jim, I believe your feelings will alter considerably,” Spock’s alternate self assured him, “But I feel I can interfere no more on the matter. You require much further contemplation of the limited but considerable information I have given you. Let us not speak of it again. I would enjoy showing you the colonization efforts more thoroughly.”

“Why were you looking for me, anyway?” Kirk asked, accepting the fact that the previous subject was now closed.

“I simply desired your company, old friend.”

/

As Kirk headed back towards the designated coordinates to beam back up to the Enterprise, he decided that he had never before regretted satisfying his curiosity so completely. There was not a fiber of his being that was not uncomfortable with the knowledge Spock’s future self had imparted. What in the hell was he supposed to do now? How could he pursue a friendship with the current Spock, knowing that feelings he certainly did not want might sporadically appear? Although he lived an entirely different life in an entirely different world than the Kirk from future Spock’s timeline, he believed the older man when he told him that their friendship would be an important part of both his and Spock’s lives, regardless of the differences present in this reality.

But a romantic relationship with Spock, of all people? There were so many problems with that, he didn’t even know where to start his objections. Sure, he’d gotten the wild urge down below to sleep with men on occasion, and enjoyed acting on said urges, that wasn’t really the issue. He liked his woman, and men, with a little more fire and a lot less rigid composure than his stiff and formal Vulcan crewmember. Not to mention, he could only imagine Spock’s reaction if Kirk tried to initiate some kind of… anything of that sort with him. Spock would probably have him hauled off to medical. Obviously he did have the capacity for romantic feeling, considering the scene he had witnessed between Spock and Uhura in the transporter room before they beamed aboard the Narada.

What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t be best friends with current Spock now that future Spock had suggested a romantic relationship between them! How was he supposed to completely put that aside and not let it influence his every interaction with his First Officer? The errant thought occured to him that maybe that was exactly what the elder Vulcan had intended, but he had a hard time believing that the good-natured Spock of the future would be so underhanded. Yet he had to have known that he could not simply pack such speculations into a box in his mind and forget they were there. Vulcans may possess such an ability, but Captain James T. Kirk certainly did not. He shook his disorienting train of thought off as he approached the place where McCoy and Spock were waiting, joining them in bidding farewell to Ambassador Sarek and his fellow Vulcans.

“Beam us up, Scotty,” Kirk commanded into his communicator, soon after feeling the familiar tingling that accompanied transportation.


	2. The Ship Has Weather'd

Spock had had no intention whatsoever of gaining access to the knowledge now in his possession. After thoroughly organizing the transference of the supplies aboard the Enterprise to where they were needed throughout the colony, his intention had been to assess their progress and offer any assistance he was able, and perhaps to offer greetings to his alternate self, whom he knew to be residing there. Shortly after beginning his inquiries and observations, Spock had felt a disorienting interference within his mind, which he immediately recognized as a telepathic signal of unknown origin being directed towards him. Further focus on this interference led him to the swift conclusion that the origin was, in fact, himself, or rather, his future self. Unsure of what the purpose of this telepathic intrusion could be, but confident that it could not be unintentional, Spock determinedly traced the beacon to it’s source.

Although few had ever had the audacity to directly comment upon Spock’s ability to do almost any task with a complete lack of sound, he was not unaware of his aptitude to ‘sneak up and scare the goddamn hell out of everybody,’ as phrased by Dr. McCoy. Whether or not this prowess had proved positive or negative on this occasion, Spock had not concluded. However, the fact of the matter could not be altered: he had approached the Captain and his future self, so silently that he was not be detected, and clearly heard the words “in another lifetime, we were both desirous of a closer relationship” spoken by the latter. Immediately recognizing the subject of their conversation by evaluating the Captain’s facial expressions, he removed himself as quietly and even more rapidly than he had arrived.

Spock now had a prodigous amount of queries to process. His primary concern was the behavior of his future self, whom Spock knew was conscious of the fact that his younger self had heard this proclamation. Not only had he intentionally led Spock to the location it was spoken, but he was also fully aware of his presence there at that moment in time. Vulcan senses were acutely more perceptive than humans, and therefore only the Captain had been ignorant of his proximity. The amount of unmitigated interference exhibited by his alternate self concerning not only his affairs, but that of the Captain, was exceedingly inappropriate. Spock was not only cognizant of the confusion and mental agitation he was suffering himself, but also of the fact that his Captain was experiencing similar disorientation. However, as his current comtemplations were in no way as pressing as his duties to the Enterprise and the prosperity of his culture, Spock discarded them and returned his focus to his original intention.

/

Many hours passed before Spock allowed his mind to return to its previous considerations. However, he could not deny that there were no further conclusions to draw without additional information, and even that would most likely not yield a determined course of action. Spock further realized that no course of action was, in fact, required at all. He could simply continue as he was, with the knowledge that both he and the Captain would never completely be able to erase the possibility of a romantic attachment between them. The unfortunate nature of this particular information was that it did insert complications into the friendship between himself and the Captain. His future self had told Spock that this was a friendship that would define them both, in ways that he could not yet realize. Clearly, he could not forego a relationship that was apparently essential to his time in Starfleet and beyond it.

That was the only decision Spock could come to: he must continue his present course as far as his relationship with the Captain was concerned. But would this course end at a close friendship or continue to something more intimate? Such a relationship was, in itself, a dilemna, regardless of whom the second party was. Nyota had provided him with a close companion, someone to speak with about matters he could entrust to no other, and later with some physical intimacy, but she never attempted to cross the boundaries which Spock set. She was the closest confidant he had ever allowed himself to have, and he had been glad of her support when he was struggling with his emotions upon the death of his mother and his planet. The limited relationship was beneficial to them both, however their emotional attachment was in no way as deep as the bonds experienced by his people, or the human chemical reaction known as ‘love.’ Furthermore, they placed no restrictions upon one another, and Nyota freely enjoyed the attentions of other men, often in a physical capacity. His relationship with Nyota was, at present, logical.

His alternate self had suggested that his friendship with the Captain was not only logical, but somehow necessary. Therefore, it followed that he believed that introducing a romantic element to this friendship was also necessary. He could not imagine that his future self was so altered from his present self that he would interefere in such an elaborate manner concerning something he was not entirely positive about. Then there was the truth of the fact that he was simply not interested in the Captain in any romantic fashion. Despite Spock’s outward calm, except on the rare occasion it was provoked into nonexistence by said Captain, he was not ignorant of the fact that both his human and Vulcan halves felt emotions such as attachment, and affection. He felt them and recognized them, but his Vulcan control simply compelled him not to express them. Spock and the Captain interacted amiably, their contrasting personalities and perspectives working well to understand every angle of a situation. However, when Spock’s logic was not harmoniously counteracting the Captain’s impulsiveness, he often found him to be brash, unprofessional, and what Dr. McCoy would most likely term ‘a pain in the ass.’ Spock found it highly unlikely that these opinions would change in such a dramatic way as to make him physically or romantically inclined towards the Captain.

“Bridge to Mr. Spock,” the Captain’s voice announced from the intercom on his desk. Spock unfolded gracefully from his meditative pose and stood up, moving to respond.

“Spock here.”

“You are requested on the bridge, Mr. Spock. Ensign Masada is feeling poorly and has been relieved of his position at the science station.”

“On my way, Captain. Spock out.”

/

Although Starfleet regulations specified that someone always be present and monitoring the science station and its scanners, Spock calculated it unnecessary approximately 74.398% of the time. With several days until the Enterprise reached the nearest planet assigned for their exploration, Spock had little to occupy himself at his station. Keeping sufficient attention on the scanners in front of him, Spock continued his ruminations concerning himself and the Captain. Turning slightly in his chair, he observed the other man with his peripheral vision. He looked inappropriately bored. Although Spock was also experiencing exasperation with his lack of anything significantly useful to do, he would never allow his expression to waver from anything but polite detachment. He would certainly not allow his body to slacken completely in his chair and his head to fall back, eyes closing with the weight of idleness.

Objectively, he supposed the Captain was physically attractive. Spock was perfectly capable of acknowledging this trait in other sentient beings, although rarely experiencing it in any personal way. Although he had never experienced such attraction towards a male, he had never labeled himself with any specific gender preference. Vulcans, being a logical species, harbored none of the prejudices against same-sex relationships that were sometimes found in humans. Spock knew from Earth’s history, however, that this intolerance had decreased greatly from past decades. For Vulcans, mental compatibility was the foremost concern in bonding, and therefore gender had little relevance. Like many children on his planet, Spock had been betrothed in childhood. Because the emotion involved in finding a compatible bondmate could result in a loss of logic and control, Vulcans preferred to facilitate the connection forcefully and not allow it to develop independently. But like so many of his kind, his intended bondmate, T’Pring, had perished on Vulcan. There were a substantial number of Vulcans, however, particularly in recent decades, who chose their own bondmates, like his father.

Vulcans also bonded for life. Spock found it difficult to imagine the Captain engaging in a long-term romantic relationship. He was as aware as anyone else of the Captain’s substantial proclivities towards sexual activity. Spock understood the enjoyment associated with sexual release, but not with such frequency. He would be entirely uncomfortable with relieving control so often. There was something ironic about the Captain, who shamelessly enjoyed being in charge, being periodically inclined to give up control in such a fashion.

No matter how many logical conclusions Spock came to in his own mind, they all seemed to be completely irrelevant when considered alongside the information given by his future self. And, as he had noted previously, he knew himself, despite what timeline he may have come from. He was certain not only about the importance his friendship with the Captain, but also about the importance of pursuing a romantic relationship with him. He could only assume that the feelings of physical attraction and emotional affection which accompanied these associations would appear at some later date. Spock could only continue his friendship with the Captain and wait for the rest to unfold in time.

/

The Enterprise was still over 24 hours away from her destination as Spock stepped into the turbolift a half-step behind the Captain.

“How about a game of chess, Spock?” the Captain asked, turning towards him.

“Certainly, Captain,” Spock agreed, pressing the button for deck 3. As the doors opened, Spock followed the Captain to recreation room 6. He sat down in front of the three-dimensional chess set, always set up on a table along the left wall, straight-backed and perfectly postured. The Captain sat down across from him, stretching his spine along the back of his chair before relaxing his elbows on the table’s surface.

“Are you ready to get your ass handed to you, yet again?” the Captain smirked. Spock raised his eyebrow.

“Your illogical approach to a logical activity does often prove effective, as your actions are difficult to anticipate,” Spock allowed.

“Is that the Vulcan way of saying I only win because I confuse you by playing like an idiot?”

“Your own phrasing entirely, Captain,” Spock replied, beginning the game by moving one of his pawns. They continued to play as they spoke, mostly discussing their recent visit to the Vulcan colony.

“Looks like it’s going very well. Bones was especially impressed with the steps they’ve taken to increase their numbers,” the Captain commented.

“Indeed. I believe my alternate self was a indispensable part of the planning process,” Spock informed him, his eyebrow going up again as the Captain started and knocked a rook off the second tier. “Are you well, Captain?”

“The other Spock told me that the universe would explode if you knew he existed. Vulcans can’t lie, my ass.”

“Vulcans make every attempt to always be truthful, unless logic demands that they are not. I had assumed that my future self had informed you that he revealed himself to me when you spoke to him on Tolvek IV.”

“How do you know I spoke to him?” the Captain accused, his tone alarmed. Spock would have done better to heed his own advice concerning thoughtless honesty.

“I… observed you speaking to him, Captain.”

“I was unaware that Vulcans were in the habit of eavesdropping.”

“It was not my intention to overhear anything.”

“Aha! So you did overhear something?” the Captain pointed at him triumphantly.

“I have no comment on the matter,” Spock deadpanned, internally furious with himself, although his expression had remained blank. The game continued in silence until Spock spoke several minutes later. “Checkmate.” Clearly, the Captain’s distraction over what Spock may or may not know had been to his First Officer’s advantage.

“Well, damn,” the Captain sighed.

“I would not be too disappointed, Captain. Your mind was obviously not on the game,” Spock pointed out.

“No, it wasn’t, Spock. I was wondering how to weasel out what you heard between myself and… yourself.”

“I am immune to such attempts, Captain.”

“We’ll see about that, Spock.”


	3. The Prize We Sought

Could this get any more awkward? Spock was in no way as clever as he thought he was. It was enormously obvious that Spock had overheard enough of the conversation between Kirk and the future Spock to figure out exactly what the older Vulcan was driving at. Refusing to say what he had overheard was as good as denying he’d heard anything incriminating, which was also as good as admitting he’d heard everything, or enough to know everything. Even if he’d only heard a snippet, Spock was a genius, and would have had no problem figuring out exactly what was going on. Kirk knew perfectly well that Spock was immune to such attempts, therefore his threat to make any was entirely empty. And on this occasion, there was no need. Usually, Spock was as readable as a brick wall, but he had given himself away completely this time.

No doubt Spock had already given a large portion of his considerable brain power to dissecting every aspect of future Spock’s behavior, Kirk’s reaction to it, and his own course of action regarding it. Obviously, Spock had decided to continue his friendship with the Captain at the least, or he wouldn’t have agreed to something as informal as a chess match. However, Kirk could not imagine Spock going so far as to actively pursue a romantic relationship with anyone, let alone himself, so he’d probably decided to just sit back and watch things unfold, or perhaps crash and burn, as they would.

They hadn’t spoken about it again, remaining completely professional throughout the entirety of their uneventful exploration mission. In fact, Spock had acted even more stiff and emotionless than usual. Kirk had no doubt that he was dealing with some uncomfortable feelings as well, and it was no doubt his attempt at clamping them down as effectively as possible. However, there was plenty of leisure time as they made their way to Starbase 6 to pick up supplies for another delivery mission. Kirk happened upon, and certainly did not accost, Spock, sitting at an empty table in the mess hall around dinnertime. He had decided that since Spock obviously knew what was going on, and knew that Kirk knew, subtlety be damned. And it was always fun to try and catch Spock offguard.

“Hello, future soulmate,” Kirk greeted, sitting across from him with a grin. Spock gave a range of subtle reactions: his right eyebrow reached new heights, his jaw tensed as he clenched his teeth, and the faintest green tinge appeared high on his cheekbones and at the very tips of his pointed ears.

“Captain,” Spock said, and although whispering was no doubt too undignified for a Vulcan, his voice was several octaves lower than normal, “That is entirely inappropriate.”

“So you don’t deny it.”

“I deny nothing.”

“So you admit it?”

“I admit nothing.”

“Of course you don’t. And by doing so, you’ve confessed everything.”

“Your logic is incomprehensible.”

“As you’ve often pointed out. But seriously, Spock, I’ve put it out there now. So what’s the what?”

“I am forced to admit that I do not know, Captain, what the what is.”

“Well, what’re we gonna do about that? This?”

“As of this moment, Captain, there is not any ‘this’ that requires attention.”

“Not yet, Mr. Spock.”

/

Spock had begun being quite short with the Captain. On the bridge, he was perfectly cordial and appropriate, but the camaraderie that had developed between them in recent months was noticeably diminished. If the rest of the crew observed this, no one had the nerve to comment. Knowing the reason for his First Officer’s even colder than normal temperature, Kirk found it to be downright amusing.

Kirk was also beginning to suspect that Starfleet had intentionally given the Enterprise a string of boring missions to give them somewhat of a rest after their stressful dealings with Nero. With nothing but a countless number of delivery runs and exploratory scouting assigned to them, they mostly looked at a lot of black space. This gave Kirk ample opportunity to sit on the bridge and scrutizine Spock while he sat at his science station, endlessly attempting to puzzle the whole affair out. He also began realize that Spock was not nearly as unreadable if you surveyed him closely and with intent. When he was irritated, he clenched his jaw oh so slightly. When he was trying to solve a problem, a shallow furrow appeared between his alien eyebrows. When he was astounded at the illogic and stupidity of humans, that was when he lifted one of those eyebrows - his astonishment could be gauged by how high it lifted. When he was displeased with something, the corners of his mouth turned down the most miniscule amount. And when he was worried, the vein on the left side of his neck tightened.

He allowed Spock to continue his backslide into his formal demeanor for quite some time, giving him every impression that Kirk had let the whole thing go, luring him into a false sense of security before ambushing him.

“Chess, Mr. Spock?” he asked as they headed towards the turbolift at the end of the day shift, a few weeks after that last fateful conversation. Although Spock took no more than ten seconds to respond, it was clear that he went through a massive internal struggle in that short span of time. The evidence of this was barely perceptible - only a slight twitch of the hands clasped behind the Vulcan’s back.

“Affirmative, Captain,” Spock responded, following him out of the turbolift and to the rec room when the doors whooshed open.

“Given any more thought to our predicament, Mr. Spock?” he began, as soon as they sat down at their chess table.

“I am unaware what predicament you are referring to, Captain,” Spock replied.

“Playing dumb, are you?”

“Never,” the Vulcan said tonelessly. Kirk couldn’t help but laugh at what he sometimes suspected was intentional humor from his First Officer. What was Spock thinking at this moment? His jaw denoted irritation, while his carotid artery pulsed slightly harder than normal. What was he worried about? Where the Captain planned to take this conversation, most likely. James T. Kirk was rarely one to disappoint.

“Are you attracted to me, Spock?” he asked, a minute part of him generally interested in the answer. Kirk’s lips turned upwards in a smirk as the tips of Spock’s ears tinted green again.

“No, Captain,” Spock answered as he moved a bishop from the top tier to the second, “Although I understand that general opinion considers you physically attractive.”

“And you don’t agree with the general opinion?” Kirk pressed. Spock moved his eyes from the chess board to Kirk’s face and chest, performing what could only be described as a cursory examination.

“Your features are not aesthetically offensive and your muscle definition is satisfactory.”  
“I see. But this doesn’t please you personally?”

“I find such superficial data to be irrelevant, Captain.”

“And Uhura?” Kirk wondered aloud. The slight furrow appeared between Spock’s upturned eyebrows.

“My feelings concerning Lieutenant Uhura are complex. I myself often did not understand them.”

“Feelings, Spock?”

“Feelings, Captain.”

“Checkmate,” Kirk announced as he triumphantly tipped over Spock’s king. Spock’s jaw clenched again.

“Goodnight, Captain,” Spock said, swiftly but gracefully standing up and exiting the room.

/

The next day continued just as the last few weeks had, although Spock’s disposition dropped a few more degrees. Kirk had been called ruggedly handsome, boyishly charming, but never ‘not aesthetically offensive.’ What the hell did that even mean? That Spock could look at him without feeling nauseous? That was good, he supposed. However, he could not deny that he did not find Spock anymore physically attractive than Spock found him.

Continuing his observations, he determined that Spock was not aesthetically offensive either. His features were angular and strangely symmetrical, elegant but still decidedly masculine. His nose was aquiline, giving his profile a Romanesque air. Although his face was not extremely altered from that of a full-blooded human, it seemed perfectly suited for the characteristics that marked him as a member of another species, if only in part. His slanted eyebrows and pointed ears were indeed strange, but Kirk could not imagine him without them. The points of his impeccably groomed sideburns provided fitting companions for his similarly pointed ears. His shoulders were slim, but with ‘satisfactory muscle definition.’ The hands which roamed effortlessly over his science station were graceful, the fingers long and tapered. His posture was unwaveringly flawless, spine always straight, knees always bent just so as he sat in his swiveling chair. Hell, what was he even trying to get into? This was gonna be a practically impossibly egg to crack, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to crack it!

Kirk lay in his bunk later later that day, having just relieved the day shift, and stared at the ceiling. He was really going to have exact revenge on future Spock someday for starting this whole damn mess. Too bad he was so old, otherwise Kirk would just kick his ass. The past few weeks had made it obvious that Spock was never going to make anything that could be construed as a move. Considering his own lack of enthusiasm, he could hardly blame him. However, he was used to taking charge and setting things in motion. Therefore, the next move had to be his. He was James Kirk, after all, and he’d thawed some damn frigid bitches in his day.

Mind made up, Kirk exited his quarters and headed down the hall towards Spock’s door. He pressed the door chime with purpose. Spock answered with what was obvious trepidation, the vein in his neck pumping a pale green.

“Good evening, Mr. Spock,” Kirk greeted.

“Captain.”’

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Captain. What exactly do you require?”

“I require that you invite me in, Spock,” Kirk shifted his weight onto his left leg and crossed his arms. With what appeared to be enormous effort, at least in his case, Spock stepped aside for him to enter. As the door slid shut, Spock turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, Captain?” he questioned, clearly desiring to remove Kirk from his presence as quickly as possible.

“I fail to understand your blatant antagonism, Mr. Spock.”

“I fail to understand the reason for your visit, Captain.”

“Well, someone has to get the ball rolling.”

“I do not grasp your meaning, Captain,” Spock insisted, giving him what appeared to be the Vulcan equivalent of a glare.

“Allow me to explain,” Kirk offered.

“Please d—,” Spock began, but Kirk interrupted him by stepping forward and unceremoniously pressing their lips together. This lasted for a split-second before Kirk was thrown back against the wall with strength three times that of human, his head jerking back against the wall, knocking him unconscious.

/

Kirk blinked against the light, aware of a throbbing pain at the back of his head. Once his eyes had adjusted, he recognized himself to be lying in a standard-issue Starfleet bunk, although not his own. He looked to the foot of the bed and observed his First Officer, sitting ramrod straight in a chair, with an expression that even Kirk could not decipher.

“Did you knock me out, you asshole?” Kirk demanded.

“Indeed,” Spock responded stoically.

“As far as I know, I’m not that bad a kisser.”

“My shock was such that I was unable to form an opinion.”

“Want to give it another go?”

“No thank you, Captain.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll give you some time to process before my next attempt,” Kirk assured him. Spock gave him a look that clearly said no amount of time would facilitate a successful attempt.

“I must request that you desist any further harassments.”

“Harassments?! That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Kirk complained.

“What is the purpose of these continued assaults, Captain?”

“We’re supposed to develop some kind of something between us, remember? Fondness, friendship. Hell, I don’t know.”

“I do consider you my friend, Captain.”

“That’s good. Progress.”

“If anything further is to develop, I feel it would be appropriate to let it do so of its own volition. I believe that these matters are generally not forced.”

“Fair enough, Mr. Spock,” Kirk relented, rising from the bed. He headed towards the door, pausing next to Spock’s chair. Hesitantly, he raised his hand and slid a finger along the shell of Spock’s ear, from lobe to pointed tip. Kirk watched as the Vulcan’s eyes slid shut and he gave a barely perceptible shudder. This time it was Kirk’s eyebrow that rose, and the Captain smiled as he left Spock’s quarters.


	4. The Port is Near

Spock was perfectly aware that his ears were… sensitive. Nyota had taken advantage of this fact whenever he would allow her to, which was hardly ever. When the Captain stroked the helix of Spock’s ear, he was unprepared. And now he had exhibited a blatant weakness in the Captain’s presence, something which he would mentally flog himself for in the hours to come. When the Captain had, for lack of a better descriptive term, kissed him, Spock had been bewildered. His immediate instinct had been to remove this intrusion into his highly-guarded personal space. It was unfortunate, of course, that the Captain had been knocked unconscious.

He had remained so for approximately 47.229 minutes. In that time, Spock’s Vulcan control had effectively cauterized the human half of his brain, bringing his emotional reaction to a complete halt. He refused to encourage the Captain in his surprising and frankly alarming endeavor to molest him. However, that did not mean he spend anything other than an inordinate amount of time replaying and attempting to decipher the events of that evening. Did this mean that the Captain found him physically attractive or romantically viable in some way? Or was he simply exhibiting his characteristic enjoyment of a difficult challenge?

Spock had been entirely truthful when he told the Captain that his state of mind had not allowed him to develop any positive or negative opinion concerning the contact of their lips. However, he could not deny that he had experienced what he knew to be pleasure at the Captain’s attention to his auditory organ. He had to confess, at least to himself, that he did not know how to react to this feeling.

The Captain did not make any further advances for the remainder of the week. Spock was relieved at this, especially considering a disconcerting habit he had developed of gazing at the Captain’s hands. His exceptional Vulcan memory allowed him to recall sensations vividly, and looking at the fingers that had touched his ear, he could not stop himself from remembering it. On these occasions, Spock could feel his copper-based blood capping his ears with the slightest green, and could barely resist bashing his head against his science station when the Captain noticed his blush and rose an eyebrow at him.

/

“Chess, Mr. Spock?” the Captain asked as they stepped onto the turbolift at the end of Sunday’s day shift. At this point, Spock was aware that chess implied that the Captain intended to execute his next attempt to illicit an emotional response from his second-in-command. However, Spock’s above average curiosity prompted him to accept, as he was curious to see, as Dr. McCoy might say, what the Captain had ‘up his sleeve.’ As he reached for the deck 3 button, the Captain’s fingers closed around his wrist.

“Yes, Captain?” Spock inquired, his eyebrow raised as his eyes examined the Captain’s grip.

“How about in my quarters, Spock?” the Captain asked with a lopsided grin. The logical part of Spock’s brain told him to extricate himself from this situation with expediency. However, the part of Spock that was responsible for his choice to refuse entrance to the Vulcan Science Academy and instead enlist in Starfleet, forced him to believe that this would exhibit an embarassing lack of courage. The Captain allowed Spock to pull away from the grip at his wrist, the Vulcan silently pressing deck 5 instead. When the doors opened, Spock followed the Captain to his quarters, his shoulders slightly tensed and his back as straight as an arrow. The Captain gestured Spock in before himself and he observed a chess table had been erected in the middle of the living area. Spock clamped down hard on the instinct which told him he was walking into a trap, lowering himself into the chair slightly nearer to the door.

“Be warned, Captain. I am on my guard,” Spock informed him as the Captain sat down across from him.

“As always, Mr. Spock,” he replied, gesturing for him to begin the game. They played in silence for several minutes before the Captain spoke.

“I have decided, Spock, that your features are not aesthetically offensive either.”

“Indeed, Captain.”

“What do you mean, ‘indeed’?”

“My bone structure is uncommonly symmetrical.”

“Clearly, modesty is a human emotion?”

“Yes, Captain. Why should I hesitate to acknowledge an obvious fact over which I have no control?”

“I have no idea, Spock,” he agreed, capturing one of Spock’s pawns with his knight. “So… your ears.”

“What about them, Captain?”

“You like having them touched.”

“I have no comment on the matter.”

“You realize that when you say that, it makes the answer really obvious?” the Captain asked. Spock’s jaw tensed as he looked at him.

“Checkmate,” Spock said, leaning back slightly in his chair.

“Would you like some tea, Spock?”

“That would be… pleasant, Captain,” Spock answered. He watched the Captain move to the food synthesizer next to the entrance to his cabin, rifle through the drawer of cards to find his intended choice, submit it to the synthesizer, and turn around with two regulation Starfleet mugs. He returned to his seat, handing the mug in his left hand to Spock. The First Officer gazed down at it, curious as to whether it was a coincidence that it was chamomile, his preference.

“I did a little research,” the Captain responded to his unasked question.

“I see,” Spock replied, lifting the tea to his lips. They continued to speak easily until long after their second mugs, addressing topics from their childhoods to their years at Starfleet Academy, from Federation regulations to ship mechanics. Spock’s initial uneasiness at accepting the Captain’s invitation had long vanished, being replaced by unexpressed surprise at how easy he found it to be in the other man’s company. Several hours later, the Captain ordered that they both engage in a rest period.

“Goodnight, Spock,” the Captain said, eyes lingering momentarily on Spock’s ears.

“Goodnight, Captain,” he returned, exiting before the green tint of his ears became noticeable.

/

When Spock awoke at 0500 hours to meditate and prepare for his next shift, he began to realize that he better understood the friendship between himself and the Captain in the alternate timeline more fully after last night. Although they certainly did not agree on everything, he found that he could speak to the Captain with ease, even moreso than with Nyota. His comfort with her had developed slowly over time, where it seemed to come naturally when speaking to… Jim. He had insisted more than once during their conversation that Spock use his given name when the setting was informal. This would be a difficult transition.

Over the course of the next month, Spock and Jim, who he still primarily referred to as Captain, spent much of their spare time together. They ate meals together, played chess at least twice a week, and almost always spent a few hours together after their shift ended, often drinking tea. He learned much about his Captain - his memories of Iowa, some of his more amusing acts of rebellion in adolescence, and the story of the fateful night Admiral Pike convinced him to join Starfleet. In return, Spock shared stories of a similar personal nature, some of which even Nyota was not privvy to: growing up in Shi’Kahr, his childhood pet I-Chaya, and some of the more ridiculous attempts at besting his Kobayashi Maru. Jim laughed often when they were together, whereas the corners of Spock’s mouth turned up infinitesimally with more frequency than normal in the Captain’s presence.

Spock found the Captain’s company very agreeable and he assumed that Jim felt the same way, considering that he made no attempt to decrease the regularity of these sessions. The Vulcan also had to admit that he had begun to develop what he could only denote as affection towards the Captain. Not only did he enjoy their time together, but he looked forward to it with anticipation. Jim was rapidly becoming Spock’s confidant and friend. It had been many weeks since Spock gave a significant amount of thought to what had truly set these events in motion and when he did think of it, he could not deny that the idea was no longer as implausible as it once was. Soon the closeness that was available through friendship would reach its limits and if they wished to continue further, it would be only logical for them to engage in a romantic relationship - and their bond would be either strengthened or destroyed.

/

“Checkmate,” Jim said, grinning.

“Indeed, Captain,” Spock agreed, steepling his fingers in front of him.

“Something on your mind, Spock?”

“Yes, Captain,” he admitted, nodding. There were several moments of silence before Spock spoke again, Jim looking at him expectantly. “You have not expressed inappropriate sentiments in regards to you and I for several weeks.”

“No, I have not.”

“It is unlike you to, what is the phrase? ‘Back down from a challenge.’ I am curious as to why you relented so easily.”

“Because you wished it, Spock. You expressed a desire to let things unfold on their own, did you not?”

“Yes, Captain. Indeed I did.”

“Are things unfolding to your satisfaction?”

 

“I have not been displeased with our interaction this past month.”  
“I am glad of that,” Jim confessed.

“As am I, Captain,” he agreed, “However…” Here Spock hesitated, and as he searched for the words to express himself, Jim slid the chess board to the edge of the table so there was nothing directly between them.

“Mr. Spock, are you attracted to me?”

“I find myself unusually amenable to your company, Captain.”

“I enjoy spending time with you, Spock. Very much,” Jim informed him, placing his elbows on the table and leaning forwards.

“And I with you.”

“What is it you want?”

“I would not be averse to another attempt, Captain,” Spock said quietly but clearly, looking at a point on the wall behind Jim’s head. “Should you wish it.” Jim’s eyes widened and Spock heard the human’s heartbeat increase.

“Did you just come on to me, Mr. Spock?”

“Indeed.”

“I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I also am surprised at my own recklessness,” Spock admitted, standing up and moving to stand beside Jim’s chair, starting fixedly at the wall behind the Captain. He grasped Jim’s left bicep and hauled him bodily to stand next to him, their shoulders overlapping, their faces facing in opposite directions. Spock pulled the arm he was holding towards him slightly, his height putting his mouth just next to his Captain’s ear. “James,” he breathed.

“Yes, Spock?” Jim responded after swallowing heavily, voice wavering just slightly. The Captain’s eyes slid closed as Spock pressed his mouth firmly but softly against his, remaining only for a moment before the Vulcan’s lips moved back to Jim’s ear.

“Are you attracted to me, Captain?”

“I believe so,” Jim moaned after a moment, his forehead falling against Spock’s shoulder. The Vulcan felt Jim turn his head, warm lips finding the place where the bare skin of his neck met the fabric of his blue uniform shirt and pressing a kiss there. As the lips continued upwards along the underside of his angled jaw, Spock heard a quiet scratch as the barely visible stubble of their cheeks slid together. Spock found Jim’s ministrations enormously pleasing, especially when his Captain’s tongue curved itself along the outside of his alien ear, moving upwards to suck gently on its elegant point.

Spock was attuned enough to his own body to know exactly what physical reactions resulted from this: his eyes dilated, his heartrate became even faster than its normal 250 beats per minute, and the entire surface of his skin became a shade greener than it was normally. His ears, jaw, and neck enjoyed Jim’s attentions for several more moments before Spock grasped his shoulders removed him, holding him at a short distance.

“I believe we have more than enough to consider for this evening,” Spock said, gazing into Jim’s brilliantly blue eyes. His Captain clearly did not think so, but nodded, drawing a great breath as he did so.

“Goodnight, Mr. Spock,” Jim whispered, giving his First Officer a chaste kiss before moving away.

“Goodnight, Captain,” Spock replied, briefly lacing their fingers together before leaving. As he walked down the hall towards his own quarters, Spock felt a gentle but powerful electricity spidering out from the place their hands had touched.


	5. The Bells I Hear

Captain James T. Kirk was, quite honestly, pissed off. He could accept that the entire crew had been slightly overwhelmed in the last 72 hours, firstly because the planet they had been ordered to scout was inhabited by a rather hostile race of people who were impossible to reason with, and the landing party barely escaped with all their limbs intact, secondly due to a near-fatal encounter with a Klingon battle cruiser on their way to Deep Space Station K-7. Several crewmembers had minor injuries, including Chief Engineer Scott, but by no means anything fatal. Despite all of this commotion, Kirk was acutely aware that Spock was acting like nothing had happened between them the other night. That pointy-eared bastard had made him weak in the knees in a very non-masculine way, and was now leaving him to soak in it. Sulking was extremely unbecoming of a Captain, yet Kirk could not seem to help himself. He was also becoming embarassingly aware of Spock in inappropriate ways, causing him distraction around the clock.

He longed to see those ears darken under his touch and discover what was hiding under that perfectly pressed regulation uniform. He wanted to feel that hotter than human skin and make his First Officer emit very un-Vulcan sounds. Yet there he was, focused intently on his science station, delicious fingers dancing over the controls, blue-clad back perfectly postured. And although Kirk was in possession of more virtues than many would give him credit for, patience was not numbered among them. That was why, three days after the kiss that blew it all to hell, he rounded on Spock the moment the turbolift doors closed at the end of their shift.

“Um, hello?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Don’t be coy with me, you green-blooded cocktease!” Kirk insisted, poking Spock in the chest with his finger. The Vulcan’s mouth twitched before returning to its usual stoic expression.

“Captain. It was not my intention to make you… anxious.”

“Too late, Commander.”

“It would be preferable to continue this conversation elsewhere,” Spock said as the doors opened, passing Kirk and heading towards his room, not turning to see if he was being followed.

“You can’t go all Vulcan on me again, not after the other night,” Kirk announced when they were both in Spock’s quarters.

“I’m afraid it in my nature to do so, Captain. I do not regret my actions, however I needed to regain emotional control.”

“But you are so much more fun when you lose it.”

“That is a matter of opinion, Captain.”

“You’re not going to kiss me again, are you?”

“I do not believe it would be wise at this time. I find it difficult to retain mental focus in your presence.”

“Good,” Kirk decided, stepping forward and stroking the point of Spock’s ear with his thumb. The Vulcan’s eyes slid shut, the vein in his neck pumping madly, a low growl issuing from his throat. If he hadn’t been paying intense attention, Kirk probably would have missed it. “Did you just… growl?” Spock’s eyes opened to glare at him, assuring Kirk that indeed he had.

“I must demand that you desist. I am unsure if I can maintain control of myself.”

“And what will happen if you lose control, Mr. Spock?”

“I could gravely injure you, Captain,” he warned.

“Sounds like fun,” Kirk smiled, moving closer and pressing his lips to Spock’s. The Vulcan’s mouth remained determinedly unmoving. Kirk pulled back, exasperated. “Spo-ock,” he practically whined, “You are being an asshole.”

“I regret that I cannot give you what you want at this time, Captain.”

“Yeah, me too,” Kirk replied moodily, backing away from him. He narrowed his eyes at the slightly taller man before reaching his hand forward and running his fingers across Spock’s palm. He felt the electricity between their hands for only a moment before breaking the contact and leaving his First Officer’s room.

Kirk was bewildered at this turn of events. At first, he’d believed it would be infinitely harder to break through Spock’s emotional force field, at the same time giving him ample time to warm up to the thought of a romance with his second-in-command. He certainly hadn’t expected such a blatant overture from the Vulcan, with his hands and his lips and his seemingly spontaneous attractiveness. However unexpected the chemistry was, Kirk did not find it unwelcome, as apparently it was meant to be. He assumed Spock would feel the same way, but apparently it was too much of an overload for his passion-starved mind to process.

So here he was, essentially back at square one - except worse, seeing as now he actually wanted Spock, as opposed to just wanting to prove he could crack an uncrackable vault. As he sprawled onto his bunk, the hilarity of the situation struck him. James T. Kirk, noted ladies’ man and fearless starship captain, at a loss as to how to seduce his not only male, but emotionally-barren, Vulcan First Officer.

The decision he came to after several minutes was one that could lead either to unpleasant strangulation or to decidely pleasant ravishing. He would have to push Spock - subtly but firmly - over the proverbial edge. Tomorrow would be an interesting day, although whether good or bad, Kirk could not say.

/

Catching a Vulcan off-guard was no easy task, but Kirk was nothing if not resourceful. When his alarm awoke him at 0400, a solid hour and a half sooner than he was used to, he resolutely forced himself out of bed. He tugged off his shirt on his way into the bathroom, grabbed a towel, which he slung over his shoulder, and padded down the hall to Spock’s room, barefoot and clad in nothing but loose gray pajama pants. Adopting an apologetic expression, he pushed the door chime. When the door slid open, Kirk could not stop himself from taking a moment to appreciate how unbelievably endearing a scene it was.

He had never seen his First Officer look anything but flawlessly awake and alert, and had certainly never seen him in anything besides a regulation Starfleet uniform. Yet there he was, tall and lanky, in a short-sleeved black shirt and black pants, the toes of his feet just visible beneath the hem of dark fabric. His usually perfect hair was slightly mussed, his dark eyes still held the dullness of sleep, and his left arm was still stretched out, hand resting on the wall next to the button which had opened the door.

“Captain,” Spock sighed, voice rough and low with a night’s disuse, “Do you not think it rather early for another attempt?”

“I don’t appreciate the insinuation, Mr. Spock,” Kirk replied. “My shower is malfunctioning.”

“Surely the shower facilities in the gymnasium are functioning properly.”

“Why would I go all the way down there when I could just walk down the hall?”

“Indeed, Captain,” Spock said, eyeing him suspiciously before pushing away from the wall and stepping aside. As Kirk strolled passed him, he leaned forward to whisper in one of the Vulcan’s pointed ears.

“Thank you, Mr. Spock,” he breathed, strolling past him into his bathroom.

“I am not under the dillusion that I had a choice,” Spock muttered almost inaudibly to his retreating back. Stripping down and getting into Spock’s shower, Kirk examined the foreign Vulcan hygiene products with interest - what each of the bottles contained, he had no idea, as they were labeled in Vulcan. He showered and dried off quickly, wrapping his towel around his waist. Checking his reflection in the mirror and deciding he looked sufficiently provocative, he threw his discarded clothes down the laundry chute and returned to Spock’s living area.

The Vulcan was, unsurprisingly, now fully dressed and sitting at his desk, apparently reading something off his computer screen. He glanced up at the Captain, eyes closing momentarily upon seeing his state of undress, before opening them again and speaking.

“It would seem that you do not comprehend the human emotion of shame,” Spock surmised.

“I suppose not,” Kirk agreed. He came up behind the Vulcan and bending slightly, wrapped his arms around the stiff shoulders. Spock seemed to slump slightly in defeat as Kirk pressed wet lips to the green vein of his neck, damp hair soaking the fabric of his blue uniform.

“Captain. Why must you persist?” Spock asked, his voice weary.

“Because I want to illicit the reaction I did a few nights ago.”

“I do not believe that my response will be as tame a second time.”

“All the better.”

“I do not wish to harm you.”  
“You would never harm me, Spock.”

“You have seen me take leave of my control once before, Captain. I almost killed you.”

“Even I’ll admit that was my own fault.”

“Perhaps. But I do not wish to repeat it,” Spock said, voice now pleading as Kirk continued to speak into his neck.

“Please?” Kirk whispering, smiling against his skin. Before the Vulcan could protest any further, Kirk settled himself onto the warm alien lap and kissed him. Spock did not push him away. Quite the contrary, he wrapped searing fingers around Kirk’s biceps and he felt the manicured nails slicing crescents into his skin. He moaned at the pain that he couldn’t say he disliked entirely and Spock deepened the kiss roughly, slicing open Kirk’s bottom lip with his teeth.

Unfortunately, the metallic taste of blood brought Spock’s faculties back from wherever they’d fled to. Spock stood up abruptly, Kirk barely catching his balance on the edge of the desk as he slid unceremoniously off of his First Officer. The Vulcan’s eyes burned, whether with anger or arousal Kirk didn’t know, as he tensed his beautifully angled jaw and spoke one deadly quiet word.

“Out.” Spock’s expression was such that Kirk did not dare argue, high-tailing it out the door and back to his room, luckily encountering no one in the short section of hallway.

/

When Kirk arrived on the bridge at 0600 hours exactly, Spock was already bent over his station, eyes fixed on the science scanner. Kirk admired his backside for a moment before lowering himself into the Captain’s chair, legs crossed.

“ETA to K-7, Mr. Chekov?” he asked, looking at the gold back of his young Russian navigator.

“6 hours, 42 minutes, Captain,” Chekov replied, turning slightly towards him.

“Very good, Mr. Chekov,” Kirk observed, settling in for an uneventful morning. Spock abandoned the scanner and sat down a few minutes later, apparently to review something on his computer screen. Kirk’s attention was drawn away from his First Officer when a yeoman brought him a fuel consumption report to sign. He scanned the report, signing it with the stylus she handed him. When he turned back to Spock, the Vulcan was staring right back at him with an expression not unlike longing. As their gazes held, Kirk involuntary licked his lower lip, his tongue running over the place Spock had broken the skin. Only the Captain saw the Vulcan swallow before turning back to his computer, the tips of his ears noticeably green.

They arrived at Deep Space Station K-7 right on time, their skirmish with the Klingons forcing them to dock for a few minor repairs. Most of the crew had taken the opportunity to get off the ship and stretch their legs, taking advantage of the station’s bar inparticular. Kirk beamed down with Bones and Scotty, the engineer’s left arm in a sling, precisely for that reason as well. The Captain was surprised to find his First Officer there, sitting at a table alone, with a glass of clear liquid that was surely water, knowing Spock. He got a beer from the bartender before making an excuse to Bones about keeping the hobgoblin company, then headed over to sit across from his pointy-eared conquest.

“I’ve never known you to visit a bar, Mr. Spock,” he said conversationally.

“Indeed, Captain,” he responded.

“Are you alright, Spock? I mean, really.”

“I do not know.”

“Listen, this isn’t exactly my area either. These are uncharted waters for me too,” Kirk told him reassuringly. Spock nodded, seeming to relax, or at least as much as a Vulcan could.

“I must… think, Captain,” Spock announced, setting down his glass and getting up. He gave Kirk a last glance, his eyes full of an emotion the Captain had never seen there before, and left. Kirk watched him leave, turning back to stare down at the table. Curiosity made him take Spock’s glass and bring it to his mouth, taking a small sip. His eyes widened enormously as he realized that his stiff and controlled First Officer had been drinking vodka. Setting the glass back down, he and his beer went to join Scotty and Bones.


	6. The People All Exulting

When Spock returned to the bridge of the Enterprise, he found it empty except for Nyota. He felt her eyes on him as he crossed to the science station and sat heavily in his chair.

“A penny for your thoughts?” she said.

“It would be highly illogical for you to be in possession of an ancient form of Earth currency.”

“Oh, save it. What’s going on with you lately? You’re arctic.”

“Neither my internal nor external temperature has fluctuated,” Spock responded.

“You’re moody. Pre-menstrual, even,” Nyota smirked.

“A problem has arisen that has no clear solution.”

“Ah. Captain troubles?”

“I do not know what you mean.”

“The hell you don’t. You’ve got an itch and you’re not sure if you should let it be scratched.”

“Your human metaphor is inappropriate, however correct. You continue to exceed my expectations in terms of perception,” the Vulcan admitted.

“You two aren’t as subtle as you apparently think you are. You make my gaydar explode,” she replied, forcing up Spock’s eyebrow.”

“I have little experience in these matters. I do not know how to proceed.”

“Just… go for it. You deserve to be happy. Both of you.”

“The situation is complex, Nyota.”

“No, Spock, it isn’t. You want him - so take him,” she insisted, giving him a lopsided smile.

“Thank you, Nyota,” he said after a moment, gazing at her briefly before heading for the turbolift and then to his quarters.

Spock spent the time that remained of shore leave to meditate, sitting cross-legged on the floor of his living space, a single candle burning on the small table in the corner. He reflected intensely on the Captain, dissecting and examining every action, every expression, every word spoken. Spock experienced the conflict he often had as a young child and again when his mother and his planet had been lost, his human and Vulcan tendencies warring painfully for dominance. Jim brought to the surface so many violent urges that Spock had long struggled to suppress - emotions that logic could not completely overcome.

As he relaxed further into concentration, he became aware of a warmth occupying his chest that had not always existed there. Spock knew the source of this burgeoning heat as confidently as he knew every aspect of himself. The Captain had inflamed a long forgotten compulsion buried deep in the core of his being. And now that Spock felt its presence, he knew it would be impossible to ignore.

/

When he returned to the bridge, Spock noted that the Captain also appeared unusually pensive. No doubt he was thinking of the same matters that had been occupying his First Officer’s mind. They received their next delivery assignment from Starfleet after reporting their repairs successful, plotting a course for the planet M-113. The remainder of the shift was uneventuful, and when it ended, Spock entered the turbolift a half-step behind the Captain, as was their custom.

“How’d your thinking go?” Jim asked once the door slid shut, “I hope you didn’t hurt yourself.”

“It was productive, Captain.”

“How productive? Like, resolution productive?”

“Perhaps,” Spock answered, exiting the lift.

“Uh-huh. So… what conclusions did you come to, Mr. Spock?” Jim pressed, following his First Officer down the hall.

“I feel emotion for you, Captain. And I believe I am correct in my assumption that you feel emotion for me also.”

“Yeah, Spock. I feel emotion for you,” the Captain said with a smile in his voice.

“I believe I would experience discomfort if I were to be deprived of your presence,” the Vulcan admitted, allowing Jim to follow him into his quarters.

“You’d miss me?”

“Indeed,” Spock said, turning to face the slightly shorter man.

“So… what are you going to do now?” Jim prodded with a hitch in his voice. Spock leaned forward until his lips were flush against the Captain’s left ear.

“What would you like me to do, Captain?” he breathed. Spock felt Jim’s temperature rise before he felt the Captain turn his head and press soft lips to the Vulcan’s jaw. A hand snaked up to the nape of Spock’s neck and pulled him closer, Jim’s mouth working its way up until it met Spock’s, dragging the Vulcan’s lower lip into his mouth as he gently kissed him.

Spock’s senses were flooded, the entire surface of his skin overheating as he attempted to pull his Captain even closer against him, right hand on his bicep, left hand splayed against his neck and the side of his face. They remained that way for several moments until Spock pulled away, resting his forehead against Jim’s.

“Spock…” Jim said, his breath ghosting against the Vulcan’s lips.

“Yes, Captain?” Spock responded, his deep voice even rougher than usual.

“You’re not going to kick me out again, are you?”

“No.”

“Good,” Jim decided, sliding his hand underneath Spock’s uniform shirt and tugging his black undershirt out from the waist of his pants. Spock’s eyes slid shut as the Captain’s fingers moved up his ribcage, calloused fingertips enormously pleasant against his bare skin. He allowed Jim to lift both shirts over his head and discard them on the floor. The Captain moved back slightly and removed his shirts before returning to press their naked skin together, the green flush of the Vulcan’s body more noticeable next to the red of his Captain’s.

“I find this contact inordinately pleasing,” Spock confessed softly, face pressed into Jim’s hair.

“Good,” the Captain laughed, smiling against the throbbing vein of Spock’s neck. He felt Jim latch his lips onto the pulse point, biting and licking the sensitive skin there. The Vulcan clenched his jaw, clamping down on a moan as jagged fingernails left angry streaks down his pale back. As the pleasure and pain enveloped his nerves, seeming to generate electricity at the points of contact between their bodies, something that had been pulled taut in Spock’s mind finally snapped. He pushed hard against Jim, slamming his body back against the wall, his hands on either side of the Captain’s shoulders. A growl escaped Spock’s throat as he kissed Jim wildly, their tongues sliding together in a mixture of rough, wet heat. The Vulcan ground their hips together and Jim moaned contentedly into his mouth at the friction. Pulling away from his mouth, Spock took Jim’s earlobe between his lips, grazing it with his teeth.

“James,” Spock whispered, “I believe we are in need of sexual release.”

“Uh-huh,” Jim responded, his voice low. The Vulcan pulled back and gazed at Jim, watching his Captain’s pupils dilate and his eyes widen as Spock began to unfasten the front of his pants.

Anyone on the Enterprise would readily agree that the First Officer was exceptionally well-versed in a variety of subjects. He read anything and everything available via the ship’s computer or in the databanks of planets they visited. Human courtship and mating rituals were no different - he knew as much about them as he did about any other subject. The ship’s computer was efficient in describing sexual practices of countless species, and they had visited more than one planet whose inhabitants were preoccupied with mating rituals. Although Spock had never had occasion to put most of his knowledge of human procreation to practical use, and definitely not with a male, he was confident that his theoretical expertise would translate adequately.

When Spock knelt before the Captain, his blue eyes widened to what was no doubt their maximum capacity. The Vulcan’s eyebrow rose as he looked at him, and he felt the stability of Jim’s knees falter momentarily.

“Captain, are you quite alright?” Spock asked sincerely. Jim gulped and nodded stiffly as his First Officer reached into his regulation uniform pants, grasped his erection around the middle, and freed it from its confines. Spock studied it for a moment, having never had the opportunity to examine a human penis so closely. “Fascinating,” the Vulcan murmered.

“Spock, are you su-gggaaaaahhhhhh,” Jim began, but was unceremoniously cut short as Spock wrapped his lips around the head of his member. As Spock placed his hands on Jim’s hips and took him further into his inhumanly warm mouth, he decided that this was not an unpleasant experience. When he felt the head of the shaft brush against the back of his throat, he slid it back out again until only the tip remained in his mouth, dragging his tongue along the underside from base to tip as he did so. The Captain ellicited a rather attractive, strangled sound as he did this, and Spock determined he must be performing this activity correctly. Taking his right hand from Jim’s hip, he curled his long fingers around the base of his manhood and began to stroke it up and down, simultaneously moving him in and out of his mouth with a similar action. Recalling everything he had read on the subject, Spock continued his ministrations for 6.27 minutes before the Captain spoke. “I’m going- going to- come,” he breathed out shakily. Spock intensified his motions, circling the tip of Jim’s member with his tongue before quickly engulfing most of Jim’s shaft in his mouth. The Captain’s body jerked and Spock allowed his ejaculation to cease before sliding the softening organ out of his mouth and tucking it back into his pants. Focussing on the liquid in his mouth a moment, Spock noted it was salty and not particularly palatable.

“Interesting,” Spock said finally, looking up at Jim’s face. The Captain smiled lazily and laughed, his legs giving out as he slid down the wall to collapse in front of the Vulcan.

“Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?”

“I have read extensively on the subject, Captain.”

“Of course you have, Mr. Spock.”

“Indeed,” Spock agreed, leaning forward to press a kiss to Jim’s lips. He returned it with enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around Spock’s neck and climbing into his lap, all the time pulling the warm Vulcan closer.

“Don’t you need sexual release, Spock?” Jim muttered against his mouth.

“I am satisfied to have pleased you. My need has decreased to a controllable level,” Spock told him. Jim shrugged and returned his lips to Spock’s. They did not move from that position for a long while, Spock’s hands grasping hard and needy at Jim’s waist, the Captain’s fingers clutching desperately at the Vulcan’s neck and shoulders, their mouths moving against one another, alternating between gentle and firm pressure.

Finally, leaned back and gazed up intently into Spock’s dark eyes. “Sleep with me,” he said. His First Officer looked at him oddly for a moment before pressing his fingers to the Captain’s face and gently feeling his thoughts, understanding flowing through him.

“You wish for me to join you for a period of rest?”

“Mhmm.”

“Very well,” Spock agreed. Jim wasted no time in moving to the sleeping area and sitting on Spock’s bunk, pulling off his boots and stripping down to his regulation black boxer briefs. He slid under the covers and pressed his back against the wall, leaving space for Spock to join him in the small bed. The Vulcan removed his boots, pants, and underwear, organized them neatly at the foot of the bed, commanded the computer to turn off the lights, and got in next to his Captain. As he lay on his side, Jim pressed his chest into the warm back, wrapping an arm around Spock’s waist and burying his face inbetween the Vulcan’s shoulderblades. Spock noted that this contact was also very pleasing.

“Sweet dreams, Spock,” Jim said, pressing a kiss to his pale back.

“Goodnight, Captain,” he returned, allowing himself the rare pleasure of relaxation as he lay there with Jim curled against him. Spock was hardly ever entirely comfortable, but he could not deny that that was what he was experiencing. His heightened Vulcan hearing followed the rise and fall of Jim’s chest as he breathed, feeling the air ghost across the expanse of his upper back. He also heard the steady rhythm of the Captain’s heart, and felt it slightly against the middle of his spine. The arm that Jim had thrown over him was curled slightly, fingers grazing the dark hair sprinkled across Spock’s chest. The Captain’s feet entwined with Spock’s, his toes pressing against the arches of the Vulcan’s feet for warmth.

Spock allowed one of his hands to rest near his Captain’s, their fingertips just touching, then closed his eyes and permitted the corners of his mouth to turn up minutely.


	7. Follow Eyes the Steady Keel

When Captain James T. Kirk awoke, he was acutely aware that he was enclosed very securely in something very warm. As sleep abated and he remembered his surroundings, Kirk smiled enormously, realizing that he was thoroughly wrapped in Vulcan limbs.

During the night, their situations had somehow become reversed, and now Kirk was the one being securely spooned by Spock. His First Officer’s left arm was underneath his neck, his right wrapped around his chest. The lean muscle of Spock’s abdomen was flush against Kirk’s back, their legs tangled pleasantly. Those full Vulcan lips, along with most of Spock’s face, was buried contentedly into his Captain’s neck.

Kirk bit back a chuckle at the knowledge that his emotionally reserved and stoic First Officer was a hardcore cuddle-monkey. After a few moments of enjoying the unabashed contact, the alarm sounded 0500. The effect was abruptly instantaneous: he felt Spock’s eyelashes graze against his jaw as his eyes flew open, his body tensed, and he immediately released his delicious hold on his Captain. Kirk frowned as he shifted to face Spock, feeling rather cold. The Vulcan blinked at him slowly, eyes widening as Kirk grabbed the back of his neck and pulled their lips together.

Spock hesitated only for a moment before pressing himself back up against Kirk, right hand spreading alien warmth across the middle of his back. He did not relinquish his attention on Spock’s lips as he rolled them slightly until he was straddling his First Officer, their chests moving against one another and Kirk’s thighs on either side of the Vulcan’s hips.

“Good morning, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said after pulling their mouths apart and sitting up. Spock’s eyebrow rose attractively as he wrapped his long fingers around Kirk’s waist.

“Good morning, Captain,” he returned, pressing Kirk down onto his erection. The human bit down on his lip and moaned, before shooting the Vulcan a decidedly dirty look.

“Why, Mr. Spock, we have a shift in an hour to prepare for,” the Captain accused in his most authoritative voice.

“Indeed, Captain,” Spock replied and, moving his hands down to grasp Kirk’s backside, he used his inhuman strength to turn them both and stand up, Kirk still in place. “I believe a shower is in order,” he continued, walking them both across the room and into the bathroom.

“Mr. Spock, you are highly out of character,” Kirk admonished.

“I am well aware of this, Captain,” he replied, setting the other man down on the counter adjacent to the shower. “The fault is entirely yours.” Kirk grinned at him and ogled the Vulcan appreciatively as he pulled off his underwear and stepped into the shower. He wasted no time in stripping naked and joining him. The Captain could not help but think that if dry Spock was delicious, wet Spock was positively orgasmic. He reached forward and mussed the Vulcan’s hair, making it spike up adorably, also admiring the way water droplets fell off the tip of his nose and the fullness of his kissable lips.

“Damn, you look good wet,” Kirk couldn’t help but observe.

“I myself made a similar assessment,” Spock agreed, pulling the Captain towards him for a kiss. Kirk smiled against his mouth, trailing a hand down his slick torso to wrap a firm hand around the green-flushed organ between Spock’s legs. The Vulcan elicited what could only be described as a purr, fingertips moving to Kirk’s biceps and gripping hard, teeth biting down softly on the Captain’s lower lip as he deepened the contact between their mouths. Kirk began to move his hand up and down, wet fingers sliding along the dark green vein and head of his member.

“Captain,” Spock muttered against his mouth, “That is pleasing.”

“Good,” Kirk chuckled roughly, continuing his motions with increased speed and pressure. He trailed his lips along the Vulcan’s jaw, nipping his way to the heated pulse point at his neck and applying forceful suction there. Spock purred again, his face falling against the side of Kirk’s head.

“James…” Spock breathed brokenly into the Captain’s ear before Kirk felt hot fluid flowing from the Vulcan and into his hand. Letting the water of the shower wash it away, Kirk tilted his head up and gave Spock a gentle kiss.

“We should probably actually shower now,” he suggested, grinning at his First Officer. The Vulcan simply nodded in agreement.

/

When both men had finally managed to retain all of their clothing for a significant amount of time, it was 0556 hours. Spock reminded the Captain of this as he was pushed up against the wall, Kirk’s tongue closing on the point of his First Officer’s ear.

“Yes, yes, Mr. Spock,” Kirk acknowledge, pulling back and beginning another heated kiss.

Many minutes later, they emerged onto the bridge from the turbolift, Kirk looking unusually cheerful for 0600 in the morning, Spock looking suspiciously expressionless even for a Vulcan.

“Good morning, everyone,” the Captain said, collapsing into his chair, “ETA to M-113, Mr. Chekov?”

“2 hours and 17 minutes, Captain,” the young Russian replied.

“Excellent,” Kirk decided, settling in for an uneventful journey.

About three hours later, Kirk beamed down to the planet’s surface with Bones and Darnell, one of the science crewmen, to supply the lone two inhabitants of the planet with medical exams and supplies.

/

By the end of the day, Kirk had encountered his first significant challenge since facing Nero many months earlier. He sat at the desk in his quarters, recording his Captain’s log, which included the deaths of three crewmen and one member of a now-extinct alien species. As he closed his log, Kirk let his head fall back, staring at the white ceiling without seeing anything. He did not react when someone entered the override code for his door, as he knew it was Spock.

The Vulcan simply leaned over him and pressed a kiss to the Captain’s lips, soft and warm and undemanding. Kirk sighed contentedly into the alien mouth, eagerly deepening the contact. He grasped Spock’s shoulders and pulled him closer, his First Officer shifting to sit in Kirk’s welcoming lap. After several moments, Spock ended the kiss and rested his forehead against the Captain’s.

“What a shit day,” Kirk said finally.

“Indeed, Captain,” Spock replied quietly, “I regret that you have been so affected by today’s events.”

“Are you so unaffected, Spock?”

“No, James. I am very sorry for what has happened as well.”

“I’m going to have a lot of deaths on my conscience by the time this is over, aren’t I?”

“Undoubtedly. That is the burden a starship captain must bear,” the Vulcan declared, tracing smooth fingers along Kirk’s jaw. The Captain sighed, catching Spock’s hand and placing a kiss to his sensitive palm.

“Lie down with me,” Kirk said simply. It was not a question, but Spock did not seem to mind. He only stood up, circling a hand around his Captain’s wrist, and led them to the bed.

They both kicked off their boots and slid under the covers, Spock pressing himself into Kirk’s back without provocation and wrapping his arms around the human. The Captain relaxed fully into the warm embrace as he felt Vulcan fingers touch the side of his face, all disconcerting thoughts melting away as he closed his eyes.

/

When he awoke several hours later, Kirk was very alone in his small bed. The Captain frowned, wondering where his companion has disappeared to. He pulled on his boots and headed for the bridge.

As he emerged from the turbolift, Kirk saw Spock sitting at his science station, hands moving over the keys as intently as ever. The Vulcan glanced up as Kirk sat down in his Captain’s chair, raising an upturned eyebrow at the unmistakably irritated look that his superior officer directed his way.

“Status report, Mr. Spock?” Kirk said shortly.

“On route to rendezvous with the survey ship Antares, Captain,” Spock responded, “Starfleet has ordered us receive a passenger before continuing to Colony 5.”

“And when did this order arrive, Mr. Spock?”

“1 hour and 37 minutes ago, Captain.”

“Why was I not informed immediately?”

“I accept full responsibility, Captain. I determined that you needed further rest.”

“You are not at liberty to make such determinations, Mr. Spock,” Kirk snapped, “I would appreciate it if you would adhere to your assigned responsibilities.”

“Understood, Captain,” the Vulcan replied, turning back to his station.

“Lieutenant Uhura,” Kirk began, “These are rather unconventional orders. Did Starfleet provide any additional information?”

“We are to convey a boy named Charlie Evans, Captain. The crew of the Antares discovered him on Thasus, and how he survived there alone is a complete mystery. His only living family is on Colony 5,” she responded.

“ETA to rendezvous point, Mr. Chekov?” the Captain asked.

“About 71 hours, 29 minutes, Captain,” Chekov answered promptly.

“Thank you, Mr. Chekov,” he said, pressing his intercom, “Bridge to Engineering. Scotty?”

“Yes, Captain?” the chief engineer’s voice sounded back at him.

“Get up here and take the bridge,” Kirk commanded.

“Aye, Captain, on my way,” Scotty responded after a moment. Barely a minute later, the Scotsman emerged from the turbolift.

“A word, if you please, Mr. Spock,” the Captain announced, heading for the turbolift himself. The Vulcan entered seconds later and Kirk allowed the lift to descend several decks before stopping it.

“I apologize for my actions, Captain. They have clearly distressed you more than I anticipated,” Spock amended immediately.

“You clearly extended yourself beyond the bounds of propriety.”

“Indeed, Captain. In my concern for your well-being, I overstepped myself. I confess that when it comes to you, my judgment is often impaired.”

“That cannot happen, Spock. Within the chain of command on this ship, my well-being is very seldom your responsibility.”

“I am fully aware, Captain. It will not happen again,” Spock assured him. Kirk stepped forward and grasped the Vulcan’s hand in his, running rough fingertips along warm and graceful ones. The Captain leaned in and pressed firm lips to Spock’s, tongue demanding entry into his alien mouth. His First Officer did not resist him, pushing the human up against the wall of the lift and grinding their hips together. Breaking their embrace, Kirk whispered into Spock’s pointed ear.

“Here, you can do whatever you like with me. But out there, I’m in charge. Understood?”

“There will be no further incident, Captain,” Spock answered, straightening his uniform. Kirk did the same before starting the lift again and commanding it back to the bridge.

/

Four days later, Kirk was exhausted. The events surrounding the mysterious Charlie Evans’ appearance and subsequent retrieval by a race of aliens generally believed to be myth had drained the Captain both physically and mentally. As he entered the turbolift with Spock at the end of their shift, he fell heavily against the Vulcan, nuzzling into the comfortable warmth of his chest.

“Captain, are you quite well?” Spock asked, wrapping is arms around the other man.

“So… tired. I hate being the Captain.”

“Not all missions are as trying as this one. You will no doubt enjoy being Captain again soon.”

“Will not,” Kirk insisted, righting himself as the turbolift doors opened. When he stopped at the door to his quarters, Spock made to continue to his, but the Captain held his wrist and dragged the Vulcan through his door instead.

“Do you wish for me to join you for a period of rest?”

“Yes, Spock. I wish I had the energy for more than that, but unfortunately I don’t.”

“That is most unfortunate, Captain. I had desired to engage in sexual activity with you.”

“Dammnit, Spock! How can I refuse you when you say it like that?”

“I do not understand your meaning.”

“The hell you don’t. What kind of sexual activity did you have in mind, Commander?”

“Nothing extremely fatiguing, Captain. I believe the ship’s computer termed the activity ‘making out.’ Is this familiar to you?” Spock asked, looking at the Captain with his usual lack of expression. Kirk smiled, pushing Spock down onto his bed and tugging off his boots. The Vulcan faltered at the unexpected motion and fell back, sprawling delightfully on Kirk’s bed. The Captain continued, removing his First Officer’s socks, pants, and shirt. He admired Spock’s attractively half-naked body for a moment before stripping down himself.

“Yes, Spock, it is familiar to me,” Kirk finally answered, crawling onto the bed and up the length of the Vulcan’s body, wrapping their limbs together as he kissed Spock enthusiastically.


	8. The Vessel Grim and Daring

Spock’s internal clock woke him precisely at 0500, and he opened his eyes to gaze into his Captain’s neck. Taking great care not to wake Jim, the Vulcan slowly removed himself from the bed and sat down cross-legged on the floor, relaxing his body completely and allowing all his tension to flow out into the air around him. As his stress ebbed away, Spock focused his thoughts on Jim and the total comfort that enveloped him when the other man was present.

A half an hour had passed when Spock stood up from his meditation, turning around to find his Captain laying on his side, head propped up while he stared at the Vulcan.

“I was not aware that you were awake, Captain,” Spock confessed.

“I didn’t want you to be. I liked watching you,” Jim responded, taking Spock’s hand and pulling him back down on the bed.

“Our shift begins in 28 minutes,” the Vulcan pointed out. Jim groaned unhappily.

“Fine, fine,” Jim relented, before smiling and wiggling his eyebrow suggestively. “Shower?” Spock simply took his Captain by the wrist and stood up, leading him into the bathroom.

/

As they stood on the turbolift as it ascended to the bridge, Jim ran his fingers along the back of Spock’s hand. The Vulcan turned to him, feeling the electricity passing along the surface of their skin, and pressed a kiss to the Captain’s temple. Jim’s expression was surprised as he pulled his hand away as the lift doors opened.

Spock walked passed him, sitting down at his science station and beginning to monitor his scanners.

“We will be reaching Psi 2000 in about 20 minutes, Captain,” Chekov informed Jim as he fell into his chair.

“Thank you, Mr. Chekov,” the Captain answered, before pressing his intercom. “Bridge to Sick Bay.”

“McCoy here,” the Doctor’s slightly southern accent sounded from the speaker.

“Bones, I want you to beam down to the surface with Spock and I. We’ll be there in about 20 minutes. Environmental suit required.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Dr. McCoy replied, “I’ll be in the transporter room.”

“Spock, I’d like an additional science officer down there with us,” Jim told him after he had switched off his intercom.

“Yes, Captain,” the Vulcan responded, turning to Nyota. “Lieutenant Uhura, please locate Lieutenant Tormolen, inform him to procure an EV suit and join the landing party in the transporter room at 0615.”

“Will do, Mr. Spock,” Nyota said, moving to carry out his request.

When they were locked in orbit around the unstable planet, Spock and Jim put on their EV suits and headed to the transporter room, where Dr. McCoy was indeed waiting for them, along with the other requested science officer, Tormolen.

“There are bodies down there, gentlemen. It’s up to us to find out what happened to them.” the Captain announced as they positioned themselves on the transporter pads. “Energize.”

/

58 minutes later, all hell had broken loose on the Enterprise. Lieutenant Tormolen had unwittingly exposed himself to a contagion from the planet below, and a number of the crew was now infected, rendering them with a total loss of inhibition.

Tormolen was dead, Lieutenant Sulu was swashbuckling around the ship with a fencing foil, a Lieutenant from engineering could not be detached from Nurse Chapel, and Spock just could not seem to stop himself as he bent down and began nibbling on the Captain’s ear in the middle of recreation room 3.

“Spock, what in the hell are you doing?” Jim asked, almost falling out of his chair as he jerked away from Spock’s mouth.

“James… I am having difficulty restraining my emotions…” Spock said brokenly, looking at him with terrified eyes. The Vulcan gazed around, horrified to have lost control in front of no less than 14 crewmembers, as Jim grabbed his forearm roughly and forcefully pulled him out the door.

“What were you thinking? The entire ship is going to have heard about this in the next hour! Did anything about the chain of command compute with you, you green-blooded jackass?” Jim continued, shoving Spock into the turbolift. “You have irrevocably compromised my authority on board this vessel!” As the doors opened, the Captain tugged his First Officer down the hallway and into his quarters.

“Captain, I-” Spock attempted, but was interrupted.

“You shut the fuck up, you bastard! You just started necking me in front of my crew! WHAT DID I SAY? How am I supposed to retain command aboard this ship when it’s common knowledge that I cuddle my pointy-eared robot of a First Officer? Goddamnit, Spock!” Jim screamed in the Vulcan’s face before shoving him against the wall and kissing him hard.

Having now been infected himself, the Captain could control himself even less than Spock. As the Vulcan used his inhuman strength to rip Jim’s shirt completely from his body, they fell to the floor in a tangle of heat and limbs. Spock bit and licked his way down the Captain’s chest, hands feverishly tearing at the zipper of his pants. And that was how Dr. McCoy found them.

“Jim, I’ve got the anti- OH GODDAMNIT IT ALL TO HELL AND BACK WHY IS THAT GREEN-BLOODED HOBGOBLIN TRYING TO GET AT YOUR DICK LIKE IT WAS THE GREATEST DISCOVERY IN THE HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSE?” Dr. McCoy shouted, but to no avail. He hesitated only for a moment before rushing over and injected them both with two of the several hyposprays he was carrying on his person. After a few seconds, both of them turned and looked at the Doctor with wide eyes and expressions of sheer horror. Spock, not unsurprisingly, regained himself first. Standing up and straightening his uniform, he clasped his hands behind his back and addressed himself to Dr. McCoy.

“Thank you, Doctor. The Captain and I had both come under the influence of the contagion,” Spock said hurriedly, reaching down a hand and pulling Jim to his feet.

“Um… yeah,” Jim added, “We’ll just… get back to the bridge. And trust that you will administer this antidote to all infected parties.”

“Sure, Jim. I’ll just get back to this,” the Doctor gestured at them both, “later, shall I?”

“Yeah, Bones. Later,” the Captain gritted out, turning around and heading to his room, no doubt to seek out another shirt. Not waiting for him to return, Spock resolutely avoided the Doctor’s gaze as he left Jim’s quarters and headed towards the bridge.

/

The ship had returned to seeming normality, although there was an unusual quiet on the bridge. Spock refused to react as if anything was amiss, but it was obvious that the entire crew had been made aware of Spock’s actions in the rec room. Thankfully, no one dared say anything, although some pointed looks were being exchanged.

“Have you plotted the course for our new heading, Mr. Chekov?” the Captain asked.

“Aye, Captain. About 3 days 47 minutes to Alfa 177,” the young navigator told him.

“I’ll be in my quarters,” Jim said, getting and heading for the door. “Mr. Spock, you have the bridge. Let me know if anything of note occurs.”

“Aye, Captain,” Spock replied, moving to assume the command chair. After watching the doors slide shut with the Captain behind them, Spock turned and stared unseeingly out the main viewer. He wanted to go after Jim and talk to him about what had happened, but he knew that would only raise even more inappropriate speculation amongst the rest of the crew. Despite the pleasant course their interaction had taken just before they were discovered by Dr. McCoy, it was the harsh reprimand that he had received prior to it that currently occupied his thoughts.

Spock had certainly seen the Captain angry before, but never to such a degree, and very seldom was his anger directed at his First Officer. The Vulcan knew that his actions had been entirely inappropriate and regretted them sincerely, but the simple truth was that the contagion had made him unable to block his primal desire to touch the Captain. Jim clearly felt that Spock had made a mockery of himself and his entire command of the Enterprise. Although it was a disruption, the Vulcan did not believe that the entire ship would fall into disarray because of it.

Furthermore, the Captain had responded to Spock’s touch as if they had no relationship beyond that of being friends, which was common knowledge. Jim had not responded as if they were engaged in a romantic or sexual relationship. For all anyone who had witnessed or heard about the event knew, Spock simply had a secret homosexual interest in the Captain, which Jim did not reciprocate. If Spock allowed such emotions to concern him, he was the one who was entitled to be humiliated about the entire affair. As it were, the only person who had been made aware, and not even definitively, of their relationship as a result of the contagion was Dr. McCoy. The Doctor was not the sort of man who would repeat what he had seen, and therefore there was no reason for Jim to be uneasy about it.

Knowing that he could deduce nothing further without speaking to the Captain, Spock settled in and earnestly desired that the end of his shift would come swiftly.

/

If Spock entertained such notions, he would think he was nervous as he stood outside the Captain’s door several hours later. Straightening his uniform, the Vulcan lifted his hand and hesitated a moment before pressing the door chime. After 32 seconds, the door slid open to reveal the Captain, barefoot and having removed his gold uniform shirt.

“Yes, Mr. Spock?” he asked heavily.

“I wished to discuss today’s events, Captain,” Spock stated firmly.

“If you must, Commander,” Jim replied, stepping aside to allow the Vulcan entrance. As he turned to speak to his Captain, Spock could not help but notice how defeated the other man looked.

“Captain, are you quite all right?”

“No, Spock, I’m not. I am exhausted in every possible way.”

“I do apologize, Captain. It has been an unusually difficult month. I realize that today’s mission was particularly stressful, due in large part to my own actions. I regret that I allowed the contagion from Psi 2000 to hinder my emotional control to such a degree that I caused you considerable discomfort and instigated inappropriate speculation amongst your crew concerning the relationship between us.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Spock.”

“I further regret that we were discovered in a compromising position by Dr. McCoy, whom I know to be a close personal friend of yours, as it will undoubtedly lead to a socially awkward encounter with him at a later date.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“I also want to assure you of my confidence that your command has in no way been seriously compromised by these events. Your reaction to my uninhibited state would not lead anyone to suspect a romantic relationship between us. No doubt the only impression that the crew, Lieutenant Uhura and Dr. McCoy excluded, are under, is that I harbor sexual inclinations towards you that are not returned.”

“I know, Spock. I overreacted. That, combined with what happened last week, I just- I don’t know. And I took it out on you, and I’m sorry.”

“Your apology is entirely accepted, Captain, although unnecessary. I understand,” the Vulcan assured him. Jim stepped forward and laid his check against Spock’s chest. His First Officer’s long arms came to wrap around him as the Vulcan dipped his head and caught his Captain’s lips.

Somehow managing to keep their mouths attached, Spock led them into the sleeping area and onto Jim’s bed. As the Vulcan sat down, the Captain straddled his lap and ground their hips together. Spock moaned appreciatively, allowing Jim to deepen the kiss as he pushed his First Officer back onto his bunk.

As he pulled away, the Captain was grinning in a way that could only be described as impish. Spock felt his eyebrow rise involuntarily as Jim slid onto the floor, kneeling between the Vulcan’s open legs.

“Captain, I am unsure if I wish for you to continue,” Spock confessed.

“Spock, why wouldn’t you want me to continue?”

“I do not enjoy losing my emotional control, Captain. I am still experiencing residual unrest from the effects of the contagion.”

“You’ll enjoy it this time,” Jim assured him, “I promise.” When Spock’s expression did not change, the Captain asked “Do you trust me?”

“Indeed, Captain,” Spock responded, relaxing slightly. He watched as Jim leaned back, pulling off his boots and socks before unzipping his regulation Starfleet pants and tugging them off. The Vulcan allowed his Captain to remove his black underwear, running his hands up Spock’s thighs and exposed torso as he bent over him, stroking the green-flushed member with a warm, wet tongue. Even Spock could not deny that he growled as Jim enveloped him almost completely in his unbelievably soft mouth, sucking and licking him with abandon. The Vulcan could not endure this complete sensory overload for more than a few minutes, and soon he was informing his Captain of this fact. He ignored him entirely, continuing until Spock felt the curious sensation that his bones were melting as he released. Pulling back, Jim licked his lips and looked pensive before speaking.

“Huh. Kind-of like sucking on a penny,” he decided, earning him a strange look from Spock.

“How do you know what a penny tastes like, Captain? They are obsolete.”

“My stepfather collected coins,” Jim informed him, standing up to strip off his clothes.

“I see,” Spock responded, removing his remaining shirts and pulling his naked Captain into bed with him.


	9. O Heart! Heart! Heart!

He really thought he’d gotten off this time. Two days had passed before a voice that promised unparalleled embarrassment sounded out of the intercom next to his right arm.

“McCoy to the Captain,” Bones’ voice informed him.

“Kirk here.”

“Jim, I’m going to need you to come down to sickbay for a routine check-up. You’ve been putting it off for weeks.”

“I’ll be there shortly. Kirk out,” the Captain responded, ending the connection. What was the point of arguing, really? He’d just come up here and sedate him, dragging him down to sickbay anyway. “Mr. Spock, you have the bridge.”

He caught his First Officer’s eye and received what probably passed as a look of pity for a Vulcan. Kirk winked at him before heading for the turbolift.

Bones was sitting in his office when Kirk found him, staring at his computer console. When he noticed him standing there, he leaned back in his chair and stared at the other man for several moments. Kirk sat down across from him, looking up at the ceiling and waiting for it.

“Jim,” Bones began, “You want to explain yourself?”

“Not really,” Kirk replied, “But I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“After what I was forced to witness yesterday, I think I earned it.”

“Spock and I are… involved?” the Captain decided.

“And how in the hell long have you been… involved?”

“I don’t know, Bones. Months, I guess.”

“Months? This has been going on for months.”

“Yeah.”

“And where exactly is this crime against God and nature going?”

“I can’t- I need him. Not just as my Number One anymore.”

“Uh-huh. Well, who would’ve seen it coming? You finally get whipped and not only is it by a damn dick, but a green one to boot.”

“Yeah, Bones. I guess so.”

“As long as you’re… happy.”

“I am,” Kirk said finally, “And I think he is too.”

“If you say so,” Bones amended, “I sure as hell don’t see it.”

“I think that’s kind-of the point, Bones. I’m the only one who does.”

“Fair enough. Now get out of here.”

/

When he returned to the bridge, he gave Spock an assuring shrug, which earned him that a sexy eyebrow.

“How much longer, Mr. Chekov?” Kirk asked.

“We will reach Alfa 177 in 4 hours, 12 minutes, Captain,” Chekov informed him.

“Captain, I’m receiving a communication from Starfleet,” Uhura’s voice announced from behind him.

“On the screen, Lieutenant,” Kirk ordered. A few seconds later, Admiral Pike appeared before them, causing smiles to break out almost all around.

“Good morning, Enterprise,” Pike greeted.

“What can we do for you, Admiral?” the Captain asked.

“More like what I can do for you,” Pike replied, “After this survey mission, you’ve been granted two weeks of shore leave.” Cheers rang out throughout the bridge, and even Spock looked less stoic for a second.

“That is very welcome news, Admiral,” Kirk informed him.

“I know it is. You’ve had a hard run of it lately. We’ll expect you back here in two weeks, Captain. Pike out.” As the transmission cut out, Kirk couldn’t help but let out a relieved sigh.

/

Much later, after Kirk had returned from the planet’s surface, he sat on Spock’s bed and waited for the Vulcan to return. He heard the doors slide open, and a moment later Spock appeared in the doorway to the bedroom.

“Captain,” the Vulcan said, relieved, “I’ve been attempting to locate you. There’s been a transporter malfunction. You are… not yourself.”

“I don’t know, Spock,” Kirk replied, moving in front of the Vulcan and grasping his backside with his hands, “I still want you. That’s normal, isn’t it?”

“James, your personality seems to have been fractured. You currently embody your… aggressive qualities.”

“I am feeling very aggressive, Mr. Spock,” the Captain agreed, pressing his lips to Spock’s urgently, sliding his tongue into his mouth as he pushed him back out in to the living area and back against his desk. His First Officer pulled away slightly, speaking again.

“James… you are not in a proper state of mind. It would be inappropriate to engage in these activities at this time.”

“Spock,” Kirk looked at him very seriously, and then slapped him hard across the face, his cheek becoming greener at the point of contact. “I will not hear any further objections.” He then pulled off Spock’s uniform and black undershirt, jagged nails leaving dark lines down his chest and back. The Vulcan did not resist, allowing his Captain to reduce them both to a state of complete undress, all the while marking his pale body with his fingernails and teeth.

Although he did not refuse him, Spock was in no way submissive. He drew blood and left bruises in kind, assaulting Kirk’s mouth and skin with crushing force. They pushed their bodies together, as if trying to meld themselves into one being, their hands scratching and squeezing, their erections rubbing against one another with animalistic intensity.

Tearing himself away from Spock’s mouth, he spoke to him with green blood dripping from his lips.

“Turn over,” Kirk commanded. The Vulcan studied him for a moment, jaw tensed and eyebrow raised, before turning around and bending over, bracing his hands on the surface of his desk. Kirk lathed two of his fingers with spit before beginning to push them into his First Officer.

He saw Spock’s hands clench, the muscles of his forearms and shoulders tightening. After several minutes, the Vulcan relaxed, beginning to push back onto the invading digits. He swallowed, not quite inaudibly, when the fingers were removed and replaced with Kirk’s length, hard and wet against his entrance.

All consideration left Kirk’s mind as pure and undiluted need for release overtook him and he harshly shoved himself into Spock. The Vulcan growled, his hands lifting to slam his palms down on his desk hard enough to leave two dents. The Captain grabbed Spock’s hips roughly and began pumping in and out of him with force that probably would have seriously injured someone less fragile than a Vulcan.

He leaned into Spock’s back, pressing his cheek into the insane heat of the alien’s green-flushed skin. Kirk made no attempt to control the primal sounds that issued from him, moaning and choking and cursing without thought, nothing in his world but the feeling of being inside Spock, surrounded by tight, warm heat.

When he finally came, Kirk slid out of Spock and fell to the floor, dragging the Vulcan with him. Seeing that his First Officer was still very much excited, he crawled on top of him and wasted no time in wrapping his lips around the swollen organ. Spock made a somewhat helpless, lost noise as his Captain hollowed his cheeks around his member and sucked him into complete oblivion.

It took several minutes for Kirk to regain any grasp on reality. Unfortunately, Spock came back to the present more quickly and the last thing the Captain felt before everything went black was the pressure of warm, graceful Vulcan fingers on his neck.

/

As he blinked his eyes against the bright overhead lights of the sickbay, Kirk saw Spock and Bones talking in low voices at the foot of his bed. They must have noticed his movement, as they immediately came to either side of him, Bones passing his medical scanner along his body.

“Captain. Are you alright?” the Vulcan asked.

“I think so, Spock,” Kirk decided after a moment, “What in the hell happened?”

“Transporter malfunction, Captain,” Spock informed him, “It created a duplicate Captain Kirk. You were divided into two parts – one which was too weak to lead and another which was too headstrong. You were both rendered unconscious and reintegrated. Is your memory of the last several hours impaired, Captain?”

“No… there’s just- two sets of memories to sort out,” the Captain explained, eyes widening at Spock as the most recent events came back to him.

“Indeed, Captain,” his First Officer responded, looking at Kirk with a small but unmistakable smirk.

“You’ll be fine, Jim, except for looking like you got the shit beat out of you,” Bones announced, “But I’d get some sleep.”

“Thanks, Bones,” Kirk replied, moving to get out of his bed. He felt a warm Vulcan hand wrap around his bicep.

“If you would allow me, Captain,” Spock said simply. Kirk could not miss the amazed look that Bones gave him as he allowed himself to lean on his First Officer and be guided to his quarters.

/

As they entered his rooms, Spock guided him into the bathroom. Kirk looked at him, confused.

“You are in need of a shower, Captain,” the Vulcan told him, “Trust me.” After Spock had left the room, Kirk stripped off his clothes and turned to get a towel. When he caught his own reflection in the mirror, he almost yelped in a very unmanly fashion.

Turning around, he surveyed the entire extent of the damage: dark circular bruises from Spock’s fingertips covered his hips and backside, bloody fingernail streaks ran down the length of his back, angry bite marks covered his chest and neck, his lips were split and swollen, and he had three scratches running down the left side of his face. There were also smears of green blood all over him. Shaking his head, he stepped into the shower and washed himself quickly.

When he returned to his living area, Spock had sat down at the chess table that had remained for the last several months. Still clad in only a towel, Kirk sat down across from him. The game went on for several minutes before the Captain spoke.

“So… ” Kirk began, “What in the hell did you do to me?”

“You know perfectly well what transpired, Captain. You also know that I did nothing which you did not enjoy immensely,” Spock answered calmly.

“Fair enough,” the Captain smiled at him, “Do you look the same under all that?”

“Indeed, Captain.”

“I hope you aren’t- I don’t know, disappointed? Since that was…”

“It was not what I expected for our first session of sexual intercourse. However, I am entirely satisfied with what occurred. It has afforded me a certain amount of relief, to be sure.”

“Relief?”

“I am much stronger than you, Captain. I was concerned that I might cause you injury during copulation. However, you are obviously able to endure the force of my sexual proclivities.”

“Obviously.”

“Checkmate,” Spock announced, leaning back slightly in his chair. Kirk just looked at him before getting up and heading for the bedroom, pulling his towel off and letting it fall to the floor in front of his bunk.

Sliding under the covers, he turned to watch Spock as he undressed, revealing that his pale body was as battered as his Captain’s. His thighs and shoulders were scratched, his back peppered with greenish teeth marks, his backside bruised from the force of Kirk’s hips against him.

“That really was goddamn good, huh?” the Captain asked as Spock slid in next to him, their faces inches apart.

“Yes, Captain,” the Vulcan agreed, kissing him softly. Slipping his hand underneath the covers, Kirk laced his fingers with Spock, eliciting a purr from his First Officer.

“You like that,” Kirk stated against Spock’s warm lips.

“Vulcan hands contain more nerve endings than human ones,” Spock informed him, “And touch is difficult for us to endure without forging a mental connection. It is why we generally avoid it.”

“I see,” the Captain replied, pulling his mouth away from Spock’s and lifting his hand to his lips. His gaze did not waver from the Vulcan’s as he ran his tongue along his middle and index fingers before encasing them completely in his mouth. Spock’s eyes rolled back in his head and he convulsed. “Well,” Kirk said, letting the digits slide from between his lips. “Isn’t that… fascinating.”

“Indeed, Captain,” Spock responded distantly, his voice low and broken.

“I’ll just file that away, shall I?” Kirk decided, intertwining their fingers again before cuddling up to his green-flushed Vulcan and kissing him intimately. As their tongues slid against each other, Kirk could not help but think how much he would enjoy repeating today’s activities when he was entirely himself.

“Next time, Captain,” the Vulcan said, having heard his thoughts, “You will be the one bent over.”


	10. O The Bleeding Drops of Red

As they entered earth’s atmosphere the next day, an unmistakable ease had settled over the entire crew at the prospect of their imminent shore leave. Although Spock was not as affected as those around him, he could not deny that he was anticipating the uninterrupted time with his Captain.

It was customary to perform diagnostic tests on all starship systems during periods of inactivity, so Mr. Sulu eased the Enterprise into docking bay at Starfleet Academy. When the ship finally locked into place, cheers rang out on all decks.

“Attention all Enterprise personnel,” Jim announced into his intercom, “You now have liberty. Report back no later than 0800 hours, two weeks from today.”

The bridge emptied faster than Spock had ever witnessed. He and Jim were the last to be beamed off, exiting the transporter pad side by side.

“Well, Mr. Spock, come with me,” Jim commanded.

“Captain?” the Vulcan responded, confused.

“Just come on,” the Captain repeated, heading off towards the shuttlebay. His eyebrow raised, Spock followed after him.

/

A mere 21.776 minutes later, Spock and Jim were staring out into black space through the window of their recently acquired shuttlecraft.

“I confess myself surprised at your consideration and insight, Captain,” Spock informed him.

“Spock, you flatter me with your indelicacy,” Jim replied.

“My apologies, Captain,” Spock amended, “I am only pleased to be visiting the new Vulcan colony again.”

“How human of you, Spock,” he Captain replied, grinning at him.

“Hardly.”

“However, I do harbor additional intentions.”

“And what would those entail, Captain?”

“Well, I was under the impression that Vulcan weddings are best undertaken where all the Vulcans are.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What, don’t you want to marry me?”

“Captain, you seem to be unaware of what Vulcan bonding entails.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. It is a permanent commitment, Captain - unbreakable, unyielding. I do not require this of you.”

“I know you don’t. But you desire it.”

“Desire is irrational, Jim.”

“And yet.”

“I would not… object to a telepathic bonding.”

“Unbreakable and unyielding? You sure you like me that much?” Jim questioned.

“I am sure, Captain. However, you are not known for your long-term relationships,” Spock pointed out.

“Ouch. But true. I have given this ample consideration, Spock. You’re my Number One in more ways than I can explain. And I want this.”

“I believe you do, Jim.”

“Good.”

“But I am still greatly surprised.”

“Then what a feat I have accomplished.”

“Indeed.”

“So I figured we’d speak to your father and the other you when we get there, then go from there,” Jim suggested.

“That should prove… fascinating,” Spock replied, his contentment abruptly replaced by a thoroughly human emotion – blind terror.

/

“Captain Kirk seems very enthused,” Sarek told Spock several hours later.

“Yes, father,” Spock replied, hoping that Jim was not wreaking large amounts of havoc as he wandered the colony alone.

“Although his fervor is illogically human, he is sincere,” the older Vulcan said.

“I believe so,” the younger responded.

“I have no logical objections.”

“I will inform you when the ceremony is to be performed.”

“Yes. You should rejoin Captain Kirk,” Sarek suggested.

“I will. Goodbye, father,” Spock answered, bowing his head in farewell before turning and exiting the house.

Spock was experiencing what could only be called relief, although he realized that his apprehension was entirely illogical. After all, there were no logical objections to be made. Although his father still somewhat disapproved of Spock’s choice to join Starfleet, Sarek had accepted it, and this union would not disrupt his career.

It took only a moment for Spock to realize where Jim would have headed – to the home of his future self. Having learned of its location on his last visit, Spock headed down a long street to his left.

After a few minutes, he was standing on the elder Spock’s stoop. The door opened almost immediately after his knock to reveal his blue-eyed Captain, grinning from ear to ear.

“Well hello there,” Jim greeted. Spock looked at him quizzically. “I’m afraid I gave the other you a bit of a shock,” he admitted.

“Did you?” Spock asked, crossing the threshold when Jim stepped aside.

“Indeed,” his other self answered, entering from the living area. “I am unsure if my Captain Kirk could have handled such a commitment.”

“I see,” the younger Vulcan responded, feeling slightly uncomfortable at this revelation.

“However, I believe Jim to be true and rather violent in his affections. For this I am glad,” the elder continued.

“As am I,” Spock agreed.

“Jim has asked me to attend the ceremony,” his alternate self informed him.

“That may prove difficult to explain to my father,” Spock pointed out.

“I confess that your father knows of my true identity already,” the older Vulcan admitted.

“Rather careless with the time-space continuum, aren’t we?” Jim interjected, earning him two identical eyebrow raises. The Captain’s heart rate increased and his face reddened inexplicably.

“We would be happy to have you in attendance,” Spock told his future self. “However, we must see to the preparations if the ceremony is to be on such short notice.

“I understand. I will await your communication as to the hour,” the elder Spock told them, moving to see them out.

/

Many hours later, Spock stood facing Jim in a small, high-ceilinged room. In front of them was T’Pau, one of the most respected Vulcans in the galaxy, and the officiating priestess of the ceremony. To their right stood Sarek and the elder Spock, both in dark formal robes.

“Spock,” T’Pau began, “Have you proposed the koon-ut-so’lik?”

“I have, T’Pau,” Spock responded.

“And you, Kirk, have accepted?” she asked Jim.

“I have, T’Pau,” he replied.

“This bonding comes down from the time of the beginning, without change,” T’Pau spoke, “This is the Vulcan heart. This is the Vulcan soul. This is our way – the kal-if-farr.”

“James,” Spock said, “parted from me and never parted.”

“Spock,” Jim repeated, “parted from me and never parted.”

“Never and always, touching and touched,” Spock continued.

“Never and always, touching and touched,” Jim echoed.

“Your minds will be joined this night,” T’Pau announced, placing their hands over one another, “Drawn together at the time of the plak tow and present always. Kal-if-farr.”

/

“Well that was interesting,” Jim commented 33.51 minutes later. After speaking briefly to T’Pau and their two guests, Spock and Jim had made their way to the quarters the latter had arranged for them.

“You appear to be confused,” Spock noted, although he suspected the source of Jim’s reaction.

“I guess I just thought there would be more to it than that,” his Captain admitted.

“Captain,” Spock said, turning to him, “That was not the bonding.”

“Huh?”  
“That was, as you might say, the bureaucratic bullshit.”

“So we’re not bonded?”

“Not yet, Jim.”

“So when does that happen?” he asked, seemingly at a loss. Spock gazed at him pointedly, raising an elegant eyebrow. Understanding dawning on him, Jim smirked. “Oh.”

“Yes,” Spock replied.

“You Vulcans are a dirty bunch,” Jim announced.

“Vulcans are exceptionally hygienic,” he returned, pulling his Captain to him and kissing him soundly. Jim made a pleasantly surprised sound before melting into him, pressing their bodies together. Spock’s hands found their way to the collar of Jim’s formal uniform tunic and he pulled hard, ripping it across his left shoulder.

“You really have to stop ripping my clothes,” Jim said against the Vulcan mouth, letting his shirt slide to the floor before working to remove Spock’s. As he did, Spock began moving backwards, taking Jim along with him as he moved them into the next room.

As the now-shirtless Vulcan fell back onto the bed, Jim collapsed on top of him, his tan skin colliding deliciously with the pale heat of Spock’s chest. Without removing his lips from his Captain’s, Spock made short work of the rest of their clothes, allowing every inch of their skin to slide together. He felt strangely empty when Jim finally moved away from his mouth, licking his way down the green-flushed body to curl his tongue around the head of Spock’s member.

There was something about the way Jim sucked at him that made all logical thought abandon Spock’s perfectly ordered mind – he wasn’t sure if it was the slickness of his tongue, the warmth of his mouth, or the indecent enthusiasm with which the human did it, but something about it made his nerve endings go completely numb while still overloading every sense he had. As far as he could conclude, Jim’s mouth was a portal to paradise.

Reaching down, Spock pressed his fingertips to Jim’s face and concentrated on sending his emotions through them and into his Captain’s mind. As his thoughts flowed into Jim’s mind, he received his in turn, and the sudden onslaught was too much. Spock could not be sure what exactly happened in the next 6.3 seconds, but when he opened his eyes, he saw Jim staring up at him, moisture dripping from his lips.

“Fuck,” Jim breathed, and looking down Spock realized that his Captain had released simultaneously.

“I apologize,” Spock told him, removing his hand from Jim’s face with great effort.

“Don’t. Ever. So good,” his Captain mumbled brokenly.

“Indeed,” Spock replied quietly. When Jim finally rolled over and onto his back next to Spock, his muscled chest was still heaving. Being the more composed of the two, Spock got up and headed towards the bathroom. Jim made a sound like he wanted to protest, but apparently lacked the energy. After turning on the water to fill the large round tub, he returned to his exhausted human, grasping his hand and pulling him up.

The moment he was standing, however, his legs refused to hold his weight and he fell into Spock. Smirking slightly, the Vulcan grasped his Captain around the waist and hoisted him onto his shoulder, enjoying the view of the shapely backside as he carried him into the bathroom. He faltered slightly when he felt a warm tongue at the small of his back, but maintained his composure as he set Jim down on the edge of the tub.

Stepping into the steaming water, he pulled Jim in with him, his back resting against the Vulcan’s chest as Spock wrapped his limbs around his Captain. Resting his forehead between Jim’s shoulders, he just breathed the other man in, allowing himself the pleasure of filling his head with the purely tactile experience of touch and smell and taste.

“So are we bonded now?” Jim asked through a yawn.

“No, Jim,” Spock replied, his lips brushing against the back of his Captain’s neck. “I do not think you could handle bonding this evening.”

“But we’re going back to San Francisco tomorrow,” he said quietly.

“Bonding does not need to happen on Vulcan,” Spock informed him. “We will wait until we are back on Earth.”

“Well okay,” the human agreed sleepily.

/

Jim was still rather sluggish when they got out of the tub many minutes later. As he toweled his Captain’s dirty blonde hair dry, Jim smiled at him crookedly before leaning forwards and catching Spock’s lips in a slow, soft, burning kiss. Spock was unaware that they had been moving when he felt his back touch the wall, the sudden halt putting Jim’s body flush against his.

“Mmmm,” Jim moaned as he pulled away from Spock’s warm lips, pressing his cheek into the middle of the Vulcan’s chest. Wrapping his arms around the human, he felt the still damp hair against his face.

They eventually made their way back to the bed, Jim lying on his back as Spock curled himself against his side. Burying his nose into the crook of Jim’s neck, the Vulcan breathed in deeply, concentrating on the smell that was unique to this one human – some impossible combination of pine trees and ocean air. Spock heard his Captain’s breathing slow and knew that he was asleep, his hand tangled in the Vulcan’s dark hair, his thumb barely brushing the tip of one pointed ear.

Resting his right hand at the place where Jim’s hip joined his abdomen, feeling the slight rise of his pelvic bone, Spock’s lips turned up in an uncharacteristic and private smile. He tilted his head up and lightly kissed the curve of his Captain’s jaw before relaxing his limb and falling almost immediately asleep.


	11. On the Deck My Captain Lies

Jim could not remember another occasion where he had woken up before Spock, and hell if he wasn’t going to take advantage of it. Untwining himself ever so carefully, he was amazed that the Vulcan did not wake up. Smiling deviously, Jim scooted himself down until he was level with Spock’s adorably relaxed face. Then he abruptly began kissing the other man passionately, grinding their naked bodies together. Spock’s eyes shot open the instant Jim’s lips touched his, his muffled yelp turning into a satisfied moan.

“I find I am not averse to that method of awakening,” Spock decided when Jim had finally detached himself.

“Well, good,” Jim answered, “Now get up, you sexy thing you, we’re headed back to Starfleet today.”

“Indeed,” the Vulcan replied with a raised eyebrow.

“Mhmm. Not to mention that we still aren’t married, according to you.”

“A technicality, Jim. The papers have been filed.”

“Well you built this up pretty good last night. I’m excited.”

“I shall endeavor not to disappoint, Captain.”

/

“Spock, I’m hungry,” Jim announced once they had stepped out of the shuttle and onto the solid ground of Starfleet Academy.

“That is understandable. You have not eaten since quite early this morning.”

“How about that Italian restaurant down the street?”

“I do not care for Italian food. Is there a problem with the cafeteria?”

“Spock. Replicated food does not compare to the real thing.”

“I find any difference irrelevant.”

“You really are an oddity, aren’t you? Alright, Indian?”

“I would not object if that is what you wish,” the Vulcan told him, gesturing for Jim to lead the way.

Once they had exited the campus and headed down the street, Jim could not help but notice how tense Spock became in proximity to the crowded sidewalk.

“You okay?” Jim asked him. His First Officer looked over at hi with an elegantly raised eyebrow.

“The people. It is uncomfortable to be touched, even in passing,” Spock informed him.

“You don’t mind when I do it.”

“Indeed. But I do not wish to experience the emotions of these strangers. Even the slightest degree of telepathy is often an unwelcome burden.”

“I’m sorry. We’re almost there,” Jim assured him, pointing to a building a few yards down. As they neared, Jim grasped Spock’s elbow and led him across the street.

Letting his hand slide down the Vulcan’s arm, he brushed his fingertips over the back of the warm hand before returning it to his side. As his skin slid over Spock’s, he felt a warmth flood his veins and his steps faltered. Looking over at the man next to him with a confused expression, he saw his second-in-command smirking slightly back at him.

“The bond is becoming impatient. It wishes to be completed,” Spock explained.

“That makes two of us,” Jim said, smiling.

Jim could not help but think how particularly adorable Spock looked as he meticulously ate his vegetarian thali.

“You are precious,” Jim informed the Vulcan as he dipped a piece of his chicken tikka into the raita and brought it to his lips.

“Indeed,” Spock replied, looking skeptical. Jim did not respond, only look at him affectionately.

“So what does bonding feel like?” he asked after a moment.

“I do not know, Captain. I have never experienced it.”

“Yeah, I know that. What do they tell you it feels like?”

“You know that Vulcans do not discuss such things.”

“One of your parents must have said something to you about it.”

“Perhaps.”

“You are impossible,” Jim complained. Spock sighed.

“Do you recall the transporter incident?”

“How could I not?”

“I anticipate it to be somewhat similar,” Spock said matter-of-factly. Jim’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing rather comically.

“Wow, uh – that’s… that’s nice,” he said eventually.

“A curious adjective to employ,” the Vulcan pointed out, “However, it will still not reach the intensity the blood fever will induce.”

“Beg pardon?”

“The blood fever, Captain. Plak tow. A neurochemical imbalance which precides pon farr.”

“And what in the hell is that?”

“The Vulcan time of mating. The cycle occurs once every seven years.”

“Are you making this up?”

“No, Captain. It is a matter of the utmost privacy to my people. I am only being inappropriately open with you as a courtesy.”

“How intense are we talking?”

“Even Vulcans, despite being physically superior to humans, often retain severe injuries. Cracked ribs, dislocated shoulders, and fractures clavicles are common occurrences.”

“Jesus. I’ve got all that to look forward to?”

“I believe that the sexual satisfaction it brings far outweighs any injuries obtained during the process.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

/

They finally exited the restaurant after a heated argument over who would pay for the bill, and Jim was frankly still at a loss to understand how Spock won. He frequently suspected Spock of using his logic to simply frustrate him into submission.

“So… where to?” Jim asked as they stepped back onto the busy street.

“Perhaps we should see how the diagnostics on the Enterprise are going,” Spock suggested. Jim couldn’t imagine anything more boring, but was happy to agree if it was what his First Officer wanted.

After a brief tour through main engineering, they moved on to the bridge and found it empty. Jim found himself looking out the window while Spock’s hands worked rapidly at his science station.

He allowed his eyes to slide out of focus and thought back to standing there next to the Vulcan as the Narada began to fall apart. As he remember Spock’s words, he could not help but smile at the memory – ‘No, not really. Not this time.’ Jim jumped in surprise at the sound of his second-in-command’s silky voice in his ear, real this time. He had not even heard him move.

“Jim, lock the bridge,” Spock commanded. Jim turned to him, confusion in his blue eyes as the Vulcan gazed back at him intensely. One alien eyebrow rose slowly, as if daring him to ask the question.

“Computer, seal the bridge. Captain’s code Kirk-Alpha-4-8-2-2-G,” Jim finally said.

“The bridge has been sealed,” the computer’s voice sounded out.

“Spock, what—ooooooooh,” he began, but forgot his curiosity as Spock’s warm Vulcan lips latched onto his neck, licking and sucking with force.

He could feel the heat of Spock’s hands through his uniform as the scorching fingers wrapped themselves around Jim’s hips and pulled him closer.

“The bond must be completed,” Spock growled into his ear, taking the lobe into his mouth. Turning his head, Jim managed to capture Spock’s lips with his, their tongues sliding together as his hands found the front of his First Officer’s uniform pants.

Detaching themselves, Spock wasted no time in pulling off his shirt as well as Jim’s, immediately pressing the bare skin of their chest and torsos together in a delicious flood of electricity.

Having now gotten his hand inside the front of Spock’s pants, Jim wrapped his hand around the hard organ, eliciting a delighted purr from the Vulcan’s mouth. Moving forward until Spock’s back hit navigation control, Jim pulled away to divest the rest of his First Officer’s clothing. Kissing and tonguing his way back up the pale body, he finally reached Spock’s mouth again and attacked it forcefully.

Grasping the back of Jim’s thighs, Spock lifted him up and carried him around the station to drop him into his Captain’s chair. Dropping to his knees, Spock quickly pulled off Jim’s boots, socks, pants, and underwear before taking the length of him into his inhumanly hot mouth.

“Spock– oh- God… mmmm…” Jim breathed out incoherently, Spock’s tongue gliding along his shaft, his lips suctioning around the head incredibly. He was startled when the Vulcan’s talented mouth left him, cold air ghosting over the wetness left behind.

Blinking his eyes open, Jim saw Spock reach for his hand. Taking it, his First Officer pulled him out of the chair and spun him roughly around to bend over the back of the chair. Bracing himself by gripping the arms of the chair with either hand, Jim moaned at the feel of two slick fingers at his entrance. As one of Spock’s hands stretched and stroked inside of him, the other came around to press gentle fingertips to Jim’s face.

And then he felt it. A blinding, searing light obscured his vision as tendrils of sensation flowed through Spock’s fingers and into his mind. This was definitely a meld of a completely different variety, one that left him gasping for air and filling him up with pure completion at the same time. He barely noticed when Spock began to push into him, his body accepting the invasion as a welcome extension, like the reattachment of a severed limb.

As foreign sounds issued from his mouth, Jim felt the pressure building between his legs with crippling intensity. So many feelings burst into him at once that he almost blacked out – he felt the exquisite relief of his own release as it shot onto the back of his Captain’s chair, the all-encompassing warmth as Spock flooded into him, and the entirely unfamiliar satisfaction of the bond locking firmly into place. He could sense the awareness of Spock’s entire body inside of his and for a brief moment, he was genuinely unsure of where either of them began or ended.

When he finally managed to regain any semblance of coherency, he noted that he and Spock had both collapsed onto the floor. As the Captain lay sprawled behind his own command chair, spread-eagled on the bridge of the Enterprise, he could not help but chuckle. Spock’s left leg as thrown over Jim’s back, and Jim’s right arm was trapped under the Vulcan’s hard chest.

“I fail to understand what you find amusing, Captain,” Spock admitted suddenly.

“Really, Spock? You just fucked me over my own chair. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to prove something.”

“I do not understand what you mean.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Jim replied, laughing again.

It was several minutes before Spock stood up, clasping Jim’s bicep and pulling him up as well. Collapsing heavily into the Captain’s chair, Spock guided Jim down to straddle his lap.

“I hope the meld was not too unpleasant for you, Jim,” Spock said quietly.

“Are you kidding? I hope you do that all the time now,” he responded.

“That would prove far too taxing on the both of us, mentally and physically.”

“Well, sometimes then.”

“Indeed,” Spock agreed, pulling Jim down for a kiss. They both began to harden again, their erections brushing together almost painfully. Jim smiled into Spock’s mouth, his hand moving down to curl around the green-flushed member. Spock sighed contentedly as Jim’s fingers stroked slowly, feeling the contrast between velvety softness and hard stiffness. As he did so, he felt a warm hand on his own shaft, matching his rhythm with precision. When Jim increased the friction on Spock, the Vulcan did the same to him, and eventually they both fell onto each other in a sticky and thoroughly relaxed mess.

“Mmmm,” Jim moaned into Spock’s shoulder.

“I hope I have not exhausted you beyond recovery,” Spock said sincerely.

“For the rest of today, yes,” he admitted.

“I apologize.”

“Do not ever apologize for that.”

“As you wish, Jim.”

“I am so not looking forward to cleaning this up.”

“The responsibility is mine, therefore I will do so.”

“My prince,” Jim said teasingly, pressing his mouth to Spock’s. His lips still moving against Jim’s, the Vulcan once again placed his fingertips softly on the meld points. Warmth rushed into his limbs, Spock’s voice echoing a single word into his mind.

“What does it mean?” Jim asked, pulling away from him slightly.

“Everything,” Spock told him, “All that you are.”

“And what is that?” he questioned.

“My Captain,” the Vulcan replied, moving forward to capture his lips once more.

THE END


End file.
